


Brave New World

by MoonFox



Series: Brave New World [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Merlin (TV), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Bromance, Drama, F/M, Gen, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonFox/pseuds/MoonFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1500 years after Camlann:  Merlin has made a life for himself when a surprising twist of fate and alien technology brings him face to face with friends he thought he lost.<br/>Gwaine is saved unexpectedly by his own past and future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the fandoms, only the rabid plot squirrels running loose in my head that created this story.
> 
> A/N: Fandoms: Multi: Merlin (Canon until 5x13, minor AU for 5x13, modern AU), Stargate SG-1 (minor Canon deviances to allow for the combined universes through Ark of Truth), Doctor Who Universe (mix of AU and Canon)
> 
> Huge Thanks to IcarusLSU for the trampoline (or bridge) I jumped off of to start this story. To Nance from ff net for beta reading it for me, and to Aerist and Matthew72 for their wonderful artwork. And so many others at theHeartofCamelot for their support and enthusiasm!
> 
> Please leave a comment if you would be so kind! Thanks!

_“Dying Swans, twisted wings,_   
_Beauty not needed here._   
_Lost my love, lost my life_   
_In this garden of fear._   
_I have seen many things,_   
_In a lifetime alone,_   
_Mother love is no more,_   
_Bring this savage back home...”_   
_Lyrics from ‘Brave New World’ by Iron Maiden_

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Prologue:**

Pain. Agony. Secrets revealed. His own heart pounding in his ears. His screams resonated through the forest. His last coherent thought, as he watched Morgana saunter to her horse, was that he had failed.

* * *

Captain Gwaine Dallon, USMC*, stood at the bottom of the ramp and marveled at his life. One would think he’d be used to wormholes by now, after nearly a year and a half of constant travel. For the most part he was, but each trip sent a thrill of nervous energy through him. Of course, he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie, so that always helped. One last check of his gear and he followed his team leader through the gate.

The mission was going to be rather boring. Yet, as he stood facing the shimmering event horizon that would take them home, he felt a wave of nausea. Shaking it off, he was the last member of the team to step through. Typically, the ride was smoother than a roller coaster. The cold of deep space, as his scattered atoms sped through the wormhole, created a chill that was not completely unwelcome. It heightened the joy of the ride. This time, as his consciousness watched the stars fly past, he felt something was off. A bright flash of light ahead of him shook the normal feeling of the ride, and as he stumbled out the other side, all he could think was that he was so screwed.

“What the hell?” He asked to himself, as he looked around the cavern. This certainly was not the gate room at the SGC,* or for that matter, any other gate he had visited during his tenure at the Cheyenne Mountain Military Complex.

That day was just the start of his adventures. He spent nearly two weeks close to the cave before doing some actual recon, and found himself assaulted by a group of bandits that appeared to be from the dark ages. A couple of shots fired off from his P90,* and the brigands ran, screaming about sorcery and witchcraft. A few days later, a group of armed men, like knights from the local renaissance festival, arrived in the area.

Gwaine tried to lay low, as he followed and listened to their conversations. They were on the hunt for a sorcerer who supposedly called down thunder with an odd-looking wand. He narrowed his eyes and silently cursed his own stupidity. Of course the bandits would have called it magic...and now it appeared, the local king of the realm had found out and arrived with a bunch of knights to investigate.

As he edged closer to the men, he began overhearing things that made his blood run cold. The blond man was called Arthur Pendragon, a prince and the son of Uther. More swear words ran through Gwaine’s mind. First, there was the fact that the mythical king, whose stories he learned as a child, was real. Secondly, he realized that history obviously didn’t get it right.

Gwaine heard the prince call out for his servant to help make camp.

“Merlin!”

The Captain expected to see the stereotypical old wizard from the movies to step up.  
The gangly young man who responded to the name, was anything but.

After a bit more spying, he soon realized that he might be on another planet, where the legendary tales were being lived out; much like the Egyptian gods being Goa’uld, or the Asgard...aka “Roswell Grays”...posing as the Norse gods.

He stayed out of sight, recalling his training and the varied science fiction stories he had read: do not interfere. As he listened more, he really began to realize his technology alone was certain to get him killed.

Soon enough they left, heading back towards whatever castle they called home. He wasn’t surprised to hear them call it Camelot.

Just over a month had passed, as he waited and relied on his survival training near the gate. There was no standard DHD* that he could find within the crystalline structure inside the cave, and he was certain he searched every inch of the blasted place. There was, however, a different device with symbols similar to the Ancients, but for all his training, he couldn’t get the damn thing to work.

Two months in and he was starved for human contact, and a beer. Hell, just something. He was going crazy. Finally, convinced that no one was coming through the gate for him, he left the cave, buried his weapons and gear nearby...so none of the wandering bandits would find them and accidently blow their kneecaps off...and set out in search of civilization.

He wandered from town to town for a while, gambling as he went, finally winning a sword. Gwaine made up a story for himself to tell at taverns, and thoroughly began enjoying the harsh home-brewed ale they served...perhaps a bit too much. He tried to drown out the life he’d lived before, and settled into the nomadic lifestyle of a mercenary...hiring out his sword.

Nearly a year passed when he found himself in a tavern, and once again, face-to-face with the fairy tales of his youth. He could never resist a good bar fight, especially when he was helping out the underdogs and that was how he made his first friend: a very not-so-ancient and not-really-a-wizard, as far as he could prove; and without a pointy hat and glowing staff...a man named Merlin...

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

  
**Chapter One:**

* * *

 

  
He vaguely heard Percival yelling his name through the torment, as he flitted in and out of consciousness. He was trying to hold on, but he wasn’t sure if he would be able to.

* * *

It was just before the battle of Camlann. Gwaine knew the myths, it was where Arthur would die, supposedly at the hands of his bastard child...but Mordred wasn’t Arthur’s son. Up until recently, the kid was a well-liked member of the knights. For the most part, the man from the future realized so much of what he knew, which was mostly from movies like ‘Excalibur’...was garbage. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised by how wrong Hollywood was. Then Mordred turned on the king and the whole of Camelot began preparing to take the war to Camlann.

“Hey Gwaine,” Merlin said, coming up to his friend in the stables, as Gwaine was giving his horse a good rub down.

“Merlin, what brings you out here?” He asked, noting the serious look on the younger man’s face.

“I need your help with something,” the black-haired man replied shyly.

Gwaine chuckled, “You know you don’t need to hesitate. Anything I can do for you, I will.”

Merlin shuffled his feet a bit and sighed. Whatever was on his mind must have been heavy for the serious demeanor that surrounded him, Gwaine thought. “I need to go to the Valley of the Fallen Kings,” he said, almost too quietly for the knight to hear.

He stopped and put down the brush he’d been using on his horse, Gringolet. He turned to Merlin, giving the man his full attention. He thought about questioning why, but he was already fairly sure he knew the answer. He remembered the cave that was there...and the gate. Years before, he’d figured out that Merlin probably did have magic, though not like the movies. He guessed that there was something magical about the cave, or at least something beyond his own understanding of alien technology. Not to mention, there was the danger from the bandits who frequently used the valley as their hideout. For his friend to ask for help was rare, and he knew must be important in the grand scheme.

For the hundredth time, Gwaine thought about either pushing Merlin for answers, or even revealing his own secret. With the idea of going to war, and now finally finding someone to share his life and bed with, sometimes it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

Merlin could see the thoughts as they played on Gwaine’s face. “Nevermind, I know you’re busy and probably want to spend some time with Eira...”

Gwaine put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder and stopped him with a brotherly squeeze. “When do we go?”

“As early as possible, you should make it back to Camelot in time to march with Arthur.”

* * *

Slipping down into the dark abyss, much like the wormholes it was cold. So very cold.

* * *

He gave Merlin his sword. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he said, as he watched the young man walk away from him, towards the cave he, himself, had come to this world through. Maybe Merlin was some sort of alien life form, and had a way to contact others through the gate inside the crystal cave...or perhaps, there was something more to the whole magic lark. Either way, it was hard watching his friend walk away.

Gwaine turned around a few times, his friendship with Merlin pulling him towards following the man. Yet, his ingrained sense of duty to 'king and country' from the time he joined the military, along with Merlin’s insistence, pushed him back towards Camelot.

He knew he had to trust Merlin...and Merlin had asked him to look after Arthur. Gwaine reached the dead bandits. He thought about taking one of their weapons to use, until he was able to get another castle-forged blade. It was then, he noticed a familiar outcropping of rock. In the years since he arrived, he’d almost convinced himself this had always been his life, but the formation of stones brought his own reality back to him.

Gwaine went over to the rocks and began to move them aside; digging through the moss and soil which, over the years, had packed in around his hiding spot. Finally, he uncovered his treasure and looked it over. The firearms and ammo were ruined. Most of the cloth from his pack and clothing were destroyed by the elements as well. He found his dog tags and ran his fingers across the debossed characters.

A few months back, in Ismere, he’d lost the necklace he used to wear, when the Saxons had stripped him of everything of value. Without any real thought, he brushed the dirt off the tags and slipped them around his neck.

As he sifted through the rest of what was now mostly junk, he was surprised to find his radio in the center of it all, seeming to have weathered the burial intact. He flicked it on and was rewarded with the light signifying that it still worked. The battery display flashed with the lightning bolt across it, nearly out of juice. Turning it off again, he reburied everything else and stuffed the radio in his pack. He didn’t know why, but perhaps it was simply the significance of having that final connection to the man he once was.

Retrieving his horse, he rode back to join Arthur and begin the final preparations for battle.

* * *

There was nothing left. She had betrayed him, and he in turn betrayed his king and his friends. He waited for the end to come.

* * *

The battle had been fierce. They all lost many friends that night at Camlann. Many others as well, over the next few days, as the wounded succumbed to their injuries. Gaius returned, without Arthur or Merlin, and the news he brought with him of treachery made Gwaine’s heart sink.

In such a short time, he had finally allowed himself to truly begin to think he could settle in here. His new home. He had resigned himself to never seeing the twenty-first century again. In less than a week, the beautiful blond had wormed her way into his heart, and he into her bed.

He shook his head and bit back the emotions. Eira...he sighed for perhaps the hundredth time that day. After years of holding out hope of someday returning to his home, he’d finally met a woman whom he'd given his heart to, and resigned himself to a life in this ancient land. She reminded him somewhat of a woman he’d left behind. He couldn’t even remember how many years it had been since he last saw her, or even consciously thought about her. When he met Eira though, he gave up his last hope of going home, and finally decided to move on in this new life.

Reaching into a crevice, hidden behind his bed, he pulled out the last remaining piece from his old life. It seemed so foreign to him now. The batteries were nearly gone. He debated with himself about turning it on, one last time. Just for old times sake.

He’d made up his mind earlier in the day. He watched the blond he had hoped to make a life with, as she dangled lifeless from the noose around her neck. He was done with waiting. Finished with the idea that perhaps someone might come for him. There was nothing left now but Merlin and Arthur. The first two friends he made in this ancient, mythological world he now called home. Neither of them knew his secret. No one here did. He would take it to his grave. He smirked a bit, realizing that might be closer than even he would admit. It still felt odd at times to see how history, completely different from the stories he grew up with, came to pass.

No, he decided, he wouldn’t turn it on yet. There was no point.

He moved to stick it back into the secret hole, but then paused. If he was riding to his death, it wouldn’t matter whether he left it or took it. There was a measure of comfort to be had from the old radio; a link to fast cars, good times with friends, and chasing tail. That was, until he’d met the girl of his dreams, and took her to a concert at Red Rocks. Blond, intelligent, and gorgeous...and she also outranked him; but being from a different team, he didn’t care.

That was the last time he’d been privy to live Rock'N'Roll. Two weeks later, he found himself in absolute hell.

He tossed the item lightly in his hand and made up his mind. He’d take the radio with him. If anything, he could throw it at Morgana, and maybe confuse her enough to run her through with his sword...or something. Hell, he didn’t know what he was going to do, but oh how he wished he had taken more care when hiding his firearms. What he wouldn’t give to put a bullet in that bitch’s head. He held up the radio as if it was his sidearm, and imagined pulling the trigger. The result would be more spectacular than with a crossbow.

Stuffing the radio down, deep into his saddlebags, he picked up the familiar sword that has now become his main weapon, and left the room.

* * *

 _Name, rank, serial number._

Morgana caught them.

 _Name, rank, serial number._

Separated them.

 _Name, rank, serial number._

He knew he was confusing the hell out of her, and smiled despite his situation.

 _Name, rank, serial number._

Then she pulled out the snake.

 _Name, rank......_

He could remember his screams, as if he were outside of himself.

 _Blackness._

He came around to see Morgana going through his bags, unsure of what he told her.

She came across his radio and eyed it with suspicion.

Gwaine chuckled through his pain at her obvious confusion.

“What the hell is this?” She asked, shoving it in his face.

“See that knob on the top? Go ahead and turn it and you’ll find out.” His voice was hoarse and breathy.

Morgana eyed him warily.

“Or not,” he huffed out, while attempting to shrug against his bound arms. “Doesn’t work for shit anyway.”

He was actually surprised when she did twist the knob, and was rewarded with seeing her start in surprise, when the beep and the light indicating its activation, came on. Then his face fell as he heard something he never imagined he would again. Static...and voices were cutting in and out. The tracking light, signaling the radio’s communication to an active MALP*, came to life.

Morgana threw it at him. “What manner of magic is this? You hypocrite! My brother, turning to sorcery! While watching those like me burned and beheaded! You and Merlin with your hidden magic. How dare you!” She screeched at him.

His eyes were still on the fallen communication device, watching it in disbelief. His mind was unable to process the intermittent sounds. She grabbed his chin in her hands and turned him to face her.

“No matter, you will tell me where my brother is...so I can KILL HIM!”  
He didn’t know when the snake creature appeared back in her hands. He was vaguely aware when the radio went silent, as the final bit of power drained...and left the unit dead. Soon, his screams once again drowned out any conscious thought.

 _Blackness._

“He’s over here, we’ve found him.”

 _Blackness._

“Get away from him!”

 _Blackness._

Gunfire.

Percival screaming.

 _Blackness._

The filtered light of the trees above him as he was jostled about.

 _Blackness._

“We’re losing him!”

Pain in his chest from compressions.

 _Blackness._

The nauseating, chilling, and yet welcoming feeling of the wormhole.

 _Blackness._

Soft beeping, the hushed sounds of machinery, the rise and fall of a ventilation device. Voices in the distance.

He finally forced his eyes open to a bright light, which blinded him. He slowly became aware of the soft bed and clean sheets beneath him; as well as the cold, gray concrete walls and the ceiling, with its intricate duct work. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. After seven years...he was home.

He allowed himself to fall into a restful sleep.

* * *

“Hey, Percival. You should probably try and get some rest,” a young woman said, approaching the large man. She had a pleasant smile and a calming presence, that the knight greatly appreciated.

He looked over at her and glanced away quickly in modesty, when he saw her legs indecently exposed below clothing that was nearly as short as a tunic. A white robe, slightly shorter than the skirt, was the only piece of cloth that appeared designed to conceal her form. Even the tavern wenches his friend was so fond of covered more. Overall, the way the women here showed indecent amounts of skin, left the knight questioning his own integrity.

For two days, he had been at the mercy of these strange people in this weird dungeon. He wasn’t being kept like a prisoner, but he got the distinct feeling they wouldn’t let him leave this odd cave...with its strange bright torches and magical red candles, that would come to life randomly, emitting a sound that assaulted his eardrums. Everything about this place was noisy. Even the people of Camelot on market day were not as loud as this place.

A constant humming ran through every wall and odd tube. The infirmary, where he currently sat, was a constant cacophony of beeps, hisses, thrummings, ringings, and tickings. Many of the noises came from boxes surrounding the man laid out in a thin white tunic, attached to the boxes with small, clear, flexible tubes. He laid on a small metal bed near Percival, covered in sheets whiter than snow. Everything here was so unnatural.

Despite the multitude of attempts by the people here to explain the difference between magic and a thing they called technology, he still felt completely disturbed by his surroundings. Yet for all their explanations not a single one of them could find a reasonable excuse for why his friend still lay unconscious.

He, sort of, understood the idea of medicine, although this was far beyond anything Gaius performed. They used it to remove something called a bullet from his shoulder. It was good they had taken it out, he thought, since they were the ones who put it in him in the first place...with their odd magical bows.

He didn’t know when he dozed off finally, or what exactly had awoken him, but Percival immediately became alert to the difference in the beeping from one of the boxes next to Gwaine. A groan from the bed and he was at his friend’s side in an instant.

“Gwaine. Gwaine,” he whispered hastily, glancing around to make sure they were alone.

The other knight slowly cracked open his eyes and gave Percival the oddest look of confusion.

* * *

Gwaine laid as still as he could manage, and just listened. The familiar sounds, a comfort compared to the nightmare that clung to his mind. The steady beeping of the pulse monitor allowed him to focus on the dream he figured would soon fly from his mind. Yet it didn’t seem like a dream should be. It truly felt like memories. The last seven years, wandering around in the dark ages, as a knight of King Arthur and Camelot no less. He loved the stories while growing up, and he reasoned with himself that they must have been the driving force behind his unconscious fantasies.

But then, there were other things that he couldn’t explain. It all seemed so real: Arthur, Percival, Leon, and most of all...Merlin. Why he would dream he was Merlin’s friend, and that the powerful wizard of his childhood adulation would instead, be a servant and younger than himself, was beyond his grasp. His last memories, if they could be called that, were of shame...Eira’s treachery, then the torture by Morgana that lead to his own betrayal of the king he had vowed to serve.  
Then he felt it...subtle at first and he tried to ignore it. Yet, as he lay there the sensation grew and began to overpower him. He didn’t want to lose the dream by acknowledging the feeling. Although the ending was painful beyond anything he could have consciously imagined, there were so many good times too. There was drinking in the pubs... the women, his friends, the battles together, and the way the earth felt so much more alive. Gwaine fought against the urge overtaking his body, and he distantly heard the pulse monitor increase with his discomfort. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do it, he was going to lose the dream, but it was inevitable.

He had an itch on his nose.

Satisfied, he laid his hand back down on the bed. His eyes were still closed for the moment and he found his recollections of the dream hadn’t left him. Hearing the creaking of metal, as a chair shifted off to his left, he finally allowed himself to open his eyes. Just a tiny crack at first, so he wouldn’t be blinded by the fluorescent lighting of the infirmary.

Someone was standing above him, casting a large shadow across his face.

“Gwaine. Gwaine,” he heard the voice whisper in conspiratorial and fearful tones. It was a voice he knew well.

Opening his eyes a bit more, he felt like Dorothy coming back from Oz, when she recognized the faces from her dreams in the people surrounding her. It took him a minute to realize he wasn’t dreaming, as Percival stood over him nervously.

“Whoa,” Gwaine gasped, “didn’t mean to click my heels that hard.”

 

 

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

 

  
**Chapter Two:**

* * *

 

_Click, click, click_. The sound of the button on the mouse was almost distracting. He felt the weight of Snowdon Mountain in the military style base surrounding him today, as he sat in his office and plugged away at the computer in front of him.

His office was in one of the upper levels of the hollowed out mountain, well above the machine rooms that kept the base running. He was tucked back in a niche, off some remote corridor, where he could be left in peace from the majority of comings and goings at the base. The reinforced gray concrete walls were covered in tapestries he had collected throughout his long life. Shelves along two of the walls were filled with personal books and knick-knacks. Many more he'd collected were left in a home he rarely visited in southern Wales. Tucked away in a special climate controlled rooms to keep the pieces from rotting. Thanks to modern technology, he no longer had to use his magic to stave off the effects of time.

He had lost more pieces over the years due to his constant travels and forgetfulness, than to anything else. Even though going from one place to another was no longer the great journey it once was, it was still a comfort to know the items would be there when he returned. Merlin pondered the changes that were coming soon in his life, and wondered if he should pack up his office decor to be sent to the house. Shaking his head, he realized they would be just as safe in his UNIT office, as they would at his so-called home. An odd thought played through his mind. 'Unless of course, the mountain collapsed'. He dismissed it with a snicker, and wondered why he felt so distracted today.

There wasn't much duct work around the corners and across the ceiling, so it kept the emissions in his little hole of an office to a minimum; even when someone further below was running an experiment. So, he doubted if that had anything to do with it. A friend, who knew of his magic, once asked if the EM field distorted his powers. Merlin had laughed and simply explained that having been born into a world before modern technology, he was just more conscious of the constant hum; barely outside of normal hearing range. It did nothing to interfere with his abilities, just his concentration from time to time.

Most days, he didn't have any issues with the way his life had turned out. Although it had been an extremely long one, he wouldn't change a thing. He was considered one of the top analysts for UNIT, even though most of the personnel currently staffed at the base had no idea of his existence. The UNified Intelligence Taskforce[1] was in charge of researching and containing a variety of threats that other agencies around the world were unequipped to deal with, such as anything extraterrestrial or paranormal...at least the ones that didn't concern the highly-classified Stargate Program of the U.S., or the even more secret Torchwood Initiative of the U.K.

His own personal interest stretched more into what was classified as paranormal, or magic, as he called it. He typically coordinated with Torchwood on things that even they couldn't explain. At least he did, until the fall of the London headquarters of Torchwood One, and the Battle of Canary Wharf.[2] That was just weeks before Martha disappeared. Now, the only Torchwood left, was in Cardiff. Merlin marveled at how much had changed, since the days when Queen Annis ruled over the same area from her castle in Caerleon...just a few leagues away from the, now, bright and bustling city.

The man running it, Captain Jack Harkness, was a real character. He, like Merlin, seemed to have an unusually long life span. Most of the people he worked with knew he was different from them. Hell, he'd been in this very office for longer than most of his contemporaries had been alive. Although, not on the best of terms with Harkness from the few meetings they'd had, it was a small comfort to know that he wasn't the only one dealing with the inability to die. The only reason he hadn't spoken with the Captain about it, was something more personal than the Jack's seemingly insatiable sexual appetite, which extended to anyone...or anything...but, Merlin kept his reasons to himself.

Not that Merlin hadn't experienced various indiscriminate activities over the years himself, but Harkness's advances were in a class all their own. Simply stated, though, Jack was just not Merlin's type.

Dark blue eyes drifted from the screen, filled with numbers and codes, to the picture that sat on the corner of his desk; a person who really was Merlin's type. Deep brown eyes, and a beautiful white smile, stared out at him from the frame. Her black hair and coffee-toned skin contrasted against his own pale complexion. They met a few years back, when she was still in medical school. They went on a few dates, nothing serious at the time. Then she went missing for a while.

It was around the time that the entire hospital she was interned at, had disappeared. An odd occurrence of rain flying upwards caught the attention of many in the UK*. Months later, when he finally ran across her again, she never fully explained what had happened to her, but he could tell whatever it had been, had changed her.

He began to talk with her about his job, and she jumped on the chance to join UNIT. Martha Jones. They complimented each other well, he felt, as her own interests strayed more towards the extra-terrestrial and alien technology end of things. They had begun dating again, as soon as she graduated officer training for UNIT. Although this time around, it quickly became more than just casual dinners. Some days, he questioned his own sanity; becoming involved with someone who wouldn't live more than eighty to one hundred years in total. He learned long ago, however, that he would rather chance having love and companionship for a short time, than live alone in misery.

He only recently found out where she had been during her absence. An alien...a Time Lord...had taken her traveling in his ship, called a TARDIS*, on a journey through space and time. It was near the end of their travels, that the man known as 'The Doctor,' took her to Camelot. She admitted to seeing Merlin there, standing beside the recently widowed queen. She never explained any more of what she saw than that, but it opened the door for him to confide in her about his very long existence.

He brought himself back to the present and stared at the photo again. The beautiful woman was still smiling at him from the printed paper.

 

The picture was taken just after their engagement, a few months before. She would be his seventh wife. He supposed it might seem extremely odd to others if he were to say he was a widower six times over. Chuckling, he could just envision some tabloid media on the telly chronicling his life; like some odd, suspected serial wife-killer, or something.

_"'But what happened to his third wife?' You might ask. He claims that she fell victim to illness during the tenth century...yet, he has no proof to support that._

_" ...His fourth wife?' Well, no records of HER remain to be found…" an imaginary voice charged.*_

Finally, giving up on his work, he began to allow his mind to drift through his memories. He thought about his first wife...a true princess; well above his own station. He was no longer a simple servant, though, by the time he, and the few remaining Knights of Camelot, had sought refuge in the lands of Nemeth...

* * *

 

_Two years. It had been two years, since the Battle at Camlann._

_Two long years...since Merlin set Arthur's lifeless body adrift in the lake._

_Two years...from the time that the dream of Albion began to crumble..._

_Guinevere took up the mantle of her reign as queen as well as she was able to. She mourned for Arthur deeply. There were so many losses from that battle. Many, like Arthur, had never returned. Merlin felt the sting in his chest, of not only losing his king, but the disappearance of Gwaine and Percival as well._

_A new spark of hope arose in Camelot when Gwen announced that she was pregnant with Arthur's child. Sadly, she never got around to lifting Uther's laws on magic. Merlin understood. Gwen and her unborn child's safety were more important than his secret. She knew about it, and she accepted him for it, but together they decided it was too soon after Arthur's death to change things. Instead they would start subtly, on a case by case basis. The druids were free to live as they chose. Others with magic, who hadn't truly been persecuted since Uther's reign, were allowed to do the same for the most part._

_Then a sickness began ravaging through the lands. Merlin had been sent out with the knights, as the Court Physician of Camelot, since Gaius was too old to make the journey. By the time they reached the affected village, it was too late. Nearly two-thirds of the population was already dead, or dying._

_They returned to Camelot, and to the unexpected news that the plague had reached the city. Gaius was among the first to succumb to it. His age, and the fact he had been in the thick of things trying to heal the afflicted when the outbreak began, weakened his body and he succumbed to the disease quickly. Merlin barely had time to say his farewells to his surrogate father, before Gaius died._

_In less than a fortnight, the sickness had decimated the once shining citadel. Among those struck with the sickness near the end, were Gwen and her infant son. There was nothing Merlin could do...not even with his magic, as he tried to heal them. With his state of exhaustion and what was left of Gaius' dwindling medical supplies, he could do nothing to ease her suffering._

_Gwen's last request, while she held the dying child close to her breast, was to be with her husband. She never wanted to be queen, only to be Arthur's wife._

_Merlin took her to the lake._

_He assisted her into a boat on its shores, and set mother and son adrift with his magic. They disappeared into the mist._

_Camelot was left in shambles. Soon, other kingdoms, hearing of the lack of rulership, came pounding on the gates. There was no one left to take up the throne. Camelot, and all their dreams, fell into the pages of myths._

_Merlin and Leon led a small group of ragtag knights and refugees, across the borders to Nemeth, where they petitioned King Rodor for asylum. To repay his debt to Arthur's memory, the king took them in._

_The secret warlock would have been satisfied to simply be a servant, but King Rodor wouldn't hear of it. He knew some of what Merlin had done for Arthur, and also how he had participated in saving himself and Mithian as well. Unbeknownst to Merlin, Leon spoke on his behalf to the king, and confided in the monarch about Merlin's abilities. Not long after, Merlin was surprised to have a title bestowed upon him. Unlike Camelot, Nemeth never persecuted those with magic, and he was named as an apprentice to the current Master of Magic for the Royal Council. The man was nearly as old as Gaius had been. When he realized the extent of Merlin's abilities, he happily stepped down and let the younger man take up the mantle._

* * *

 

_"Hello, Merlin."_

_The warlock looked up from his desk and smiled, "Princess Mithian. What brings you to my humble chambers?" He was desperately trying to finish a proposal for King Rodor's council concerning some druids, who sought to take shelter in the lands of Gedref. Although the issue was relatively minor, Rodor liked being kept in the loop about all his subjects. King Bayard of Mercia, who became the ultimate victor in the final battle for what was once Camelot, had begun persecuting the druids nearly as ruthlessly as Uther had...which is why the druids began turning towards Nemeth._

_The dark-eyed princess swept into the room, and casually walked around it. She wandered along the shelves, eyeing the books, and odd assortment of items displayed. "I came by to say_

_'hello'...am I not allowed to do such a thing?"_

_"Of course you are. This is your castle...well, your father's." Merlin's eyes followed her path around the room. He felt his heart quicken, and his breath catch. Clearing his throat, he purposely turned back to his work._

_"And someday it will be my brother's," she stated in a casual, almost bored, tone._

_Merlin cocked his head to the side. "And if he doesn't return, it would fall to you."_

_He'd only heard of Mithian's brother, as a war campaign with the Gauls kept him away for the past years. When Morgana and Odin chose to join forces against Camelot and Nemeth, their timing wasn't without purpose. They had only waited long enough for Rodor's son to set sail, before they kidnapped Rodor and Mithian._

_"Or, to whomever I decide to marry." She came to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder._

_Her face was so close to his, while she watched him write, he started fidgeting. "I heard your father was still searching for the right suitor for you," he managed to say past lump in his throat._

_"Mmm..." the hum of her voice, so close to his ear, sent shivers through him. "The crux of the problem is: the men he has proposed are either too old, or too young. Of course, there is also the issue, that I doubt I could love any of them."_

_Merlin shifted uncomfortably and laughed nervously. "Well, that could be an issue, I suppose."_

_"Yes, it is." Mithian stepped back, her chestnut colored hair brushing against Merlin's cheek as she moved. "...only because I already love someone else."_

_He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she walked around to the front of the desk. "Who?" He managed to barely croak out._

_The princess sat gracefully in the chair across from him. "There is a rather dashing man who has saved me from fate, twice. I fear, I have fallen in love with him."_

_He chuckled, "If it is as you say, My Lady, then does he return your feelings?" Merlin couldn't grasp why she was confiding this information to him, instead of one of her maids, or ladies-in-waiting._

_"I had hoped he did, but I feel he is too preoccupied with other things, to even notice me."_

_"Then he is a fool," he said with a smile before he realized what he said. Merlin quickly turned away, and pretended to busy himself with something on the shelved wall behind the desk._

_"Hmm. Yes, Queen Annis of Caerleon seems to agree with you...and I recall King Arthur admitting to a similar sentiment once." Her voice, normally smooth and deep, had taken on a heavy air of annoyance._

_Merlin could feel her chocolate eyes boring into the back of his skull. He coughed, "What would you like me to do for you then, My Lady? A love spell perhaps?" He put on his best idiotic grin and turned back to her...only to find she had moved from the chair and was suddenly right beside him._

_He nearly fell over backwards when her lips touched his. "Are you a fool, Merlin, or am I?" Her eyes searched his face, for any sign of rejection._

_"Obviously, I am," he replied breathlessly, his smile broadening. He couldn't stop himself when he leaned forward and returned her kiss._

* * *

 

_There were no issues when Merlin finally asked for her hand, after her brother's return. Within a few years they had two wonderful children to share their lives with...however, then they both began to realise something. Merlin wasn't aging._

_He stayed by her side until she took her last breath. Their children grew, and had children of their own. They, in turn, had children. Each generation grew further away from him, until he was nothing more than a stranger to most of them. However, he was able to keep in touch with one or two, from time to time._

_It'd been over thirty years since he finally lost touch with his last known descendant. She married some US Army boy and moved across the pond. He heard she had kids, but nothing after that. Merlin wondered if he dared to locate them, and what they might think of some crazy man...spouting about how their ancestor was once a servant in King Arthur's Court._

* * *

 

The shrill ringtone of his smartphone snapped him back to reality. He glanced at the incoming ID with a smile, and answered.

"Ay-up, love!" He said to his current fiancée.

"Ay-up to you, as well." Martha's voice quipped from the speaker. "How are you doing today?"

"Alright, I suppose. Just thinking about you."

He could almost hear her smile through the phone. "Well, I just wanted to let you know...you should take a look at some of the recent IOA reports from the SGC. I think, you'll find something with a bit of a personal interest in them for you."

"Oh?" He asked, curious. "Since when do you have access to the reports from those agencies?"

"I don't," Martha responded, clicking her tongue. "...but, let's just say, I have some inside information. You might really want to look for something regarding the recent return of a man, who was classified MIA due to a Gate malfunction for the past few years."

* * *

 

Martha reached up and adjusted the towel on her head. She was finally going to have a few days to recharge. Glancing at her phone, she frowned. She hadn't heard from her fiancé for almost two days, not since she called him with the intel on the man in the SGC. She knew, when he did finally make contact, that he was going to grill her about where the knowledge came from. Martha wasn't sure if she was ready to reveal that information to Merlin, yet.

The sound of the door buzzer startled her. "Just a second!" She called towards the door. Standing, she tightened the sash on her bathrobe and went to see who it was. After a quick glance through the peephole, she unlatched the door and threw it open with a squeal.

Merlin stepped in and swept her up in his arms.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, after a heated kiss.

"Passing through, on my way to Colorado," he explained. He sat his bag down inside the flat and closed the door. Taking off his coat, he elaborated, "When I wasn't in the air over the Atlantic, I have been on the phone trying to pull strings to get things arranged."

"So, you read those files I suggested?" She asked, leading him over to the couch.

He flopped down unceremoniously. "Yeah, I had to use a bit of my unique skills to get to them, but I finally did. Even then, it didn't click right away; what it had to do with me. That is…until I saw a photo of the cloaks they were wearing."

"Do you think you know them?"

"You obviously think I do," he responded with an accusatory smirk.

"Care for a cuppa?" She headed towards the small kitchen, purposely ignoring his inquiry.

"Level with me, Martha. What do you know, please?"

"Coffee or tea?"

"Martha!"

"I can't say yet, because I'm not even certain myself. Now…coffee or tea?" She asked again.

"Beer," he finally relented. His blue eyes followed her movements. "You can be quite stubborn, at times. You do realize that, don't you?"

She turned and flashed him a mischievous smile. Pulling two dark bottles out of the refrigerator, she opened them and brought them to the couch. She handed him one before sitting next to him. "I'll tell you everything soon, I promise."

He held up his beer and tipped it towards her. "I'll hold you to that."

She clinked her bottle against his, before taking a drink. "Tell me, how was the flight?"

Merlin smiled. He utterly loved flying, and she knew it. It was one memory that still remained clear throughout the ages…flying…on a dragon. "Not like it used to be, but still just as amazing as it always has been."

Martha curled up closer to him on the couch.

"I wish I could take you for a ride on a dragon. Although, if Kilgharrah was still around, he'd probably throw a hissy fit, if I asked such a thing."

"You never told me what happened to them." She loved his stories. Martha understood the need to live in the 'here and now', and Merlin for the most part, did…but he was never afraid to tell her of the past that made him, or at least, what he could consciously recall.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was all about moving forward and running away from his past…as if it was a demon he couldn't escape. He never opened up; never let her see who he really was. When she was travelling with the Doctor, it was as if she was with a stranger at times. Martha felt more like his personal assistant, rather than his friend. She may have saved the world with that man, but in the end, she had to break free from him. She had to walk away.

That had been the best decision of her life. 'Well, second best,' she thought, as she glanced down at the ring Merlin had given her.

Merlin sighed and stretched out, putting his feet on her coffee table. "Kilgharrah was old when I met him. The last time I saw him, was the last day of King Arthur's life. You know, I actually remember swearing to myself, at the time, that I would never get over the hurt and pain of that day. Now, I think back at how naïve I was. Life always moves forward."

"And the other dragon?"

"I tried to help him...tried to heal him...but, he would only come to me if I commanded it. After a while..." Merlin lapsed into silence.

Martha snuggled closer to him, on the couch. "It's ok, you don't have to talk about."

He smiled, appreciating how she rarely pushed him to talk about his past.

The settled into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying being in each other's presence. "I've missed you," she finally said. Their time together had been stuttered lately, with her having being transferred to New York, and him still staying in the UK.

"I've already applied for an open-ended leave of absence after the wedding," he assured her. "So, all I need to do, is go back in for a few days to get the stuff I was working on sorted. Then I will pack up and be all yours…until you get sick of me and tell me to shove off."

Martha laughed, "I don't think that will happen for a long time." She cocked her head to the side and clicked her tongue. "As long as you earn your keep, I think I might like having a house husband."

"Ooh, modern feminism at its finest! I think I might enjoy lounging around the flat, doing nothing but eating bon-bons and watching the telly all day." He took their beers and set them on the table. "So, My Lady, what do I need to do first…to prove I'm a keeper?"

She laughed at the goofy smirk on his face and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

* * *

 

Early the next morning, Merlin found himself on another flight. This time, heading to Colorado Springs, his fingers entwined with the woman's next to him. Martha had a few days off, so she was more than happy to accompany him.

She smiled, watching his face light up, when the plane lifted off the tarmac. He was always so excited to be in the air. One of the first stories he had told her, was of his experiences as one of the original pilots for the RAF. He had been travelling the world at that time, and was somewhere in the far east, when word came of the Great War starting. Merlin quickly departed back to his homeland.

He always did when he heard of an arising conflict. Part of him would wonder if this was the time he had been waiting for; the time prophesied by the Great Dragon. Each time, he would walk by the lake and search for signs. Fourteen centuries, and he was still waiting. Some days, he would find himself lamenting for times he thought he had forgotten. Human nature, and his own stubborn spirit, would pull him out of his melancholy and encourage him to move on.

Merlin silently recalled one of his darkest moments in the late sixteenth century. A few years prior, he said goodbye to another wife. There was still no sign of Arthur, as the year marking a full millennia since the king's passing, slid by.

He decided to have one last night out on the town, before hiding himself away in the Crystal Cave. The hidden cavern served as a sanctuary, when immortality began to take its toll through the years. Merlin would have gone sooner, but that night was the final performance for Shakespeare's 'Love's Labour's Lost', and he didn't want to miss it.

At the end of the show, the oddest thing happened: a strangely dressed woman in the crowd began shouting, "Author!"* Something about her just made him smile. He left with the dispersing crowd, but he was filled with a new sense of hope, as he set out across the country to the valley in which the caves were hidden.

Merlin was more than a little stunned to come across the strange and enchanting woman again, over four hundred years later. At first, he thought it was just a coincidence that the two women appeared so similar. He ran home and scoured his journals. Rarely did he draw pictures of people he met...but the woman from the Globe Theater in 1599, was among the exceptions. Everything about her, right down to the style of clothing, was identical. Merlin snickered to himself, as he remembered his fascination with the events.

When he first approached her for a date, a few years back, it was simply curiosity...a fishing expedition. When she returned after her lengthy, and still mostly unexplained, absence, she seemed to know more about him, as well. Martha told the warlock about the Doctor, and travelling through time, but refused to give him any specifics on how she knew him. He, in turn, teased her with the idea that he had seen her before, as well. It had since become an inside joke between them.

He squeezed her hand again. He turned away from watching the clouds moving below them, through airplane window. Merlin's eyes came to rest on her face, while she read a book on her tablet computer. Coincidence, providence, or destiny...whatever it was, he was thankful to have her in his life.

A loud ding emitted from the in-flight speakers, followed by the captain's voice announcing the beginning of their descent into Colorado Springs. Merlin felt apprehension grow deep in the pit of his stomach, which he couldn't quite place. He didn't know who the cloaks in the picture belonged to. There were no names listed on the records, but something about the physical descriptions of the owners was vaguely familiar to him.

* * *

 

Martha stood tall in her uniform, just a step behind Merlin. He had his hands clasped behind his back. The only outward sign of his nerves was the way he kept twitching his thumbs, as if he had an unbearable itch. When the elevator arrived, they got on; thankfully, alone. A guard was to greet them at the lower level, and escort them to see the commanding officer of the underground military base.

"Alright?" She asked, taking his hand.

He nodded and offered her a lopsided grin. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I never imagined seeing you this nervous. It'll be fine. You'll see."

"But what if they are my friends, and I can't even remember what they look like?"

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "You will," she promised. Martha stepped back in place, as the doors slid open.

Instead of there being an escort to the general, they were personally greeted by General Hank Landry.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor revisions applied 5/10/14 for consistency with future chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three:**

* * *

Percival eyed the hot, black substance in the cup warily. To his reasoning, it did not look, or smell, like something drinkable. He stared at his own shimmering reflection in the thick glass like container, with its clean, polished enamel. It was similar to many other things here, a white color that was more pure than anything he knew. The large knight found himself caught between fascination and fear.

Gwaine laughed, "It isn't going to bite you, my friend."

"But what is it?"

"Nectar of the gods...pure, wonderful, roasted to perfection, then totally ruined by the automatic drip, to make it into the bitter substance it is today. Probably started with beans from Colombia..."

"Actually, that's Hawaiian 'Kona' Coffee, and I brought it in from my personal stock, as a welcome home present for you, and I slipped it into the cup before they brought the tray in." A man's voice piped from the doorway.. "...but if you don't like it, I can always take it back."

Gwaine looked up and grinned at the guy coming in. "Holy bloody hell, Cameron Mitchel!"

The man was dressed like many others in the base. The standard black T-shirt, pants, and polished boots, all fitted and clean. He had short, cropped, light brown hair...which looked like fuzz from a nearly ripe cattail, sticking off in odd directions. His eyes were a light sky blue, below a high forehead that made the man's square face seem longer than it was. His upper lip curled in a snarl of disapproval. "Wow, has the General seen your hair? You are so far out of regs...I should give you a page seven [1] myself...because, you know, I outrank you now."

"Well, doesn't that just bugger all?" Gwaine rolled his eyes.

"And what the frack is up with the English accent, dude? I know your mom was a Brit, but seriously?" Colonel Cameron Mitchell snatched up Gwaine's coffee cup, and held it up to his face with a fake smile. He batted his eyes and held the handle daintily, with his pinkie finger sticking out. "Right-o, cheerio! Let's all have a cuppa, shall we? Maybe, Mi'Lard would prefer some tea and scones, while we raise a toast to Her Majesty..."

Cameron stopped abruptly. His light blue eyes froze when he saw Gwaine's frown. "Frack, what did I say?"

"Nothing man, don't worry about it." Gwaine began to flick imaginary dirt off the hospital style table that floated over his lap. 'Her Majesty'...Queen Guinevere. No, that's not right, he thought to himself. He couldn't recall the current queen's name. His mother would be downright livid, if she was alive. She was very proper, British born and bred; pedigree and all. She was nineteen when she and his dad, an Army Sergeant at the US Embassy in London, were married. He, and his sister, were both born stateside. Laney, his sister, was three years his senior, and he hadn't seen nor spoken to her for years.

Gwaine was four years old when his dad was killed overseas. There was help available for military widows, but some underpaid paper pusher at the VA[2] screwed up the paperwork.

Instead of trying to deal with getting the benefits...on top of losing her husband, being on the brink of financial ruin, and a multitude of other problems...his mom decided to sell everything and go home.

They lived in London for a few years, barely scraping by, but happy in their two room flat... until his mother died in a car accident, when Gwaine was nine.

That was when Gwaine and his sister were sent to their only living relative; back in America, to Wyoming. Gwaine's dad had been estranged from his own father, a surly old rancher with a few hundred acres near the Montana border. To Gwaine's surprise, he actually got on rather well with his grandfather, whom he fondly called 'Pops' His sister, on the other hand, never wanted to leave London. She was sixteen, when she ran away from home, after a huge confrontation with their grandfather.

Occasionally, Gwaine would get a call from her, just to check in. He was eighteen, when he finally found out the reason between his dad and grandfather's estrangement. From all accounts, the wild young man was chip off the old block. Gwaine was just as restless and headstrong as his father was; a typical teenager...without a care for rules. He lived his life in the fast lane: rodeo, skipping school, monster trucks, mud-bogging, drinking, and motorcycles. It was the last two that got him in trouble.

Pops bailed him out of the local county jail and stated, "If you're gonna act like your dad, you're gonna get the same treatment I gave him." Pops gave him a choice: either deal with the accident on his own, by repaying his grandfather for the bail money, and facing jail time for underage drinking and driving...or, Gwaine could drop out of his last year of high school, get his GED[3] and enlist in the military.

Gwaine, instead, chose a different option. He didn't enlist, instead the Marine recruiter saw something special in him. The recruiter pushed Gwaine into finishing high school and into college on a ROTC[4] scholarship. Unlike his dad, who simply enlisted after his argument with Pops, just to 'get the hell out of Dodge', Gwaine took the challenge to heart and changed his life around.

At university, he joined the fencing team. During a match against the USAF Academy, he met Cameron Mitchell. While Cam, aka "Shaft", failed miserably, Gwaine excelled in the sport, but that one match built a friendship which even time couldn't break.

Gwaine graduated with a degree in communications and took his commission shortly thereafter, passing up a chance to train for the Olympics. He applied for the Special Forces, and his military career on the fast track.

"Dammit, Dallon." Cameron cursed. He put the mug back on the tray table in front of his friend. Grabbing a nearby chair, he spun it around and straddled it backwards, next to the bed. Cameron tried a different tactic to break through the silence. "First off, who'da thunk, we'd both end up here in the mountain, eh?"

Gwaine sighed, but stayed lost in his thoughts. He was pissed at how everything went down; from the moment he stepped through the Stargate and found himself in Camelot, to his return...which he couldn't even remember. Now, he was stuck in bed, unable to feel anything below his waist, because of some neurological thing; probably left over from Morgana's torture using her pet serpent. The doctors couldn't seem to tell him exactly what it was, or if it would heal.

"Come on, buddy, throw me a bone here...or something. Don't be going all PTSD[5] wonky on me, or I'll have your ass on KP[6] the moment you're released to light duty...peeling potatoes, or some shit."

Snorting out a chuckle, Gwaine turned to his buddy. "It's just been a long seven years, you know?" Gwaine noticed Percival was still staring blankly at the cup in his hand. "Cameron Mitchell, this here is Percival," he said, by way of an introduction.

The large knight looked up shyly, and gave a reserved smile and nod.

Cameron held out his hand, offering it in peace to the man. "Nice to meet ya. Damn, I think Teal'c's gonna have a run for his money as biggest badass on base, once he gets a load of you." He chuckled, when Percival returned the handshake.

The reference was completely lost on Percival. In fact, Gwaine couldn't recall ever seeing his large friend so befuddled. He supposed, it was logical. Being torn from everything you knew and shoved unceremoniously into such a foreign world, would mess with anyone's head. "Hey, Percival. Will you go find the Lady Doctor for me?"

The large man nodded, carefully setting the offending beverage down, and strode off.

"You know, you could just push that button by your bed there?" Cameron smirked, once Percival was out of earshot.

"Yeah, I know. I love the man, like a brother...but he won't stop hovering. I'm unsure if he's even figured out what a shower is yet."

Cameron chuckled, "I need to bust you out of here soon, so we can go grab a brewski."

"Sounds like a plan," Gwaine said, wiping his hands over his face. "So, how long have you been here?"

"Oh, I don't know...a while." The colonel looked at his watched, and read the date. "Maybe...about three days."

Laughing, Gwaine shook his head. "Yep, sounds like 'a while.'"

"Eh, I've actually been stationed with the SG Program for over three years now, as a pilot. You missed one hell of a dogfight against Anubis, in Antarctica a couple of years back..." Cameron cursed to himself when his friend just stared at him, blankly. "Ok, so there was this Goa'uld that ascended, right? Anyway, I was shot down, and just recently was released to full duty myself...so, we'll just skip that story."

"Cam, I've been out of it for seven years. I was stationed here straight out of SF training, just after they reopened the damn Gate. My team was the third one through, under the official program. 'Year, or so, later...I find myself stuck in the sixth-fracking-century. I don't even know how in the hell anyone found me."

"Riiiight..." Cameron licked his lips, and chewed on his thoughts for a moment. "Well, did you at least make use of that crappy fencing title you had?"

* * *

 

Percival was lost. Completely...and hopelessly...lost.

He wandered the underground tunnels of the SGC. He had gone, as Gwaine requested, to find the doctor. He then caught sight of her, just as she turned a corner ahead of him. He couldn't remember her name, in order to call out to her, so he just trotted after her, attempting to catch up. He went around the same corner and was faced with another hallway that ran to the left and right. In front of him were large gray metal panels with huge white numbers painted on them, and clear round circles with arrows in between. A guard, dressed in mottled brown and green clothing, stood in front of the buttons, and raised his eyebrow at Percival.

"Can I help you find something?" He asked, his hand unconsciously moving to rest on the odd bent piece of black metal that hung from his belt, like a sword and scabbard.

Blue eyes darted back and forth, scanning the hallway. "I'm looking for the Lady Doctor."

The guard nodded, realizing that the man had come from the infirmary. "I think she went to see General Landry. You should probably head back to the infirmary. I'll put a call into the general's office and let them know."

Percival nodded his thanks, and turned back the way he had come. Somehow, somewhere between the guard by the numbered panels, and the infirmary, he made a wrong turn. His hand itched for a sword or a mace. Just something to defend himself with; although there appeared to be no threats in this place. It would have at least made him feel better.

He heard voices down a side passage, and stiffened. He knew who one of the voices belonged to...or he would have back in Camelot. Blue eyes widened, and a grin of relief sprouted on his face. Not only did the man coming towards him sound like Merlin...he looked like him too. He didn't know how, or why, and at that moment, he didn't care.

Percival swooped in on the shorter man, before the other had a chance to do anything.

Merlin just stared in utter disbelief, as he was picked up and squeezed within an inch of his life, by the giant knight he knew from many hundreds of years before.

"I take it you know this man, Colonel?" An older gentleman wearing a light blue shirt, covered in small ribbons asked.

Merlin replied, catching his breath, as Percival sat him down. "Yes, General, I do. He is a British Citizen, so under our current treaty, I'd like to request his transfer from the SGC into UNIT custody."

"UNIT custody, huh?" The general gave a mocking smile. "Or your personal custody? See, I checked up the ranks, and it appears your visit here is a bit off the radar." He raised his hands when Merlin opened his mouth to argue. "Now, I don't give a flying monkey's butt about whether your visit is official or not. I just came into this job. So, if something like this gets swept up in all the confusion during the transfer of command, and I happen to miss something...oh well. I'll say 'oops' later."

Merlin laughed, "General Landry, I think we are going to get along perfectly." He turned back to Percival. "How are you holding up?"

The large man shook his head and shrugged, "Well enough. Gwaine was the one she tortured."

It took a moment for Merlin to comprehend who Percival was referring to. "Is he alright?" His eyebrows knit together with concern.

"It'd be better if I could find him again. This place makes me nervous," he said in a hushed tone.

Two women stood back from them, watching the interaction. One was the doctor, who Percival had been searching for. One was the doctor, whom Percival had been searching for. The other was a woman with a skin tone similar to Queen Guinevere's, wearing a man's style uniform that matched Merlin's. He wore a dark, tailored jacket, buttoned down neatly. On his chest were a row of tiny ribbons, similar to the general's. Shining insignia were on his collar, and he had a red, odd-looking hat tucked under his arm. It was so much fancier than the boy's former servant's clothing and neckerchief.

The doctor, whose knees were still very immodestly showing, came up to Percival. "Come on, we'll get you back to the infirmary and discuss your release."

"Now, Colonel," General Landry said, as they began following the doctor. "The other man...I can't release to you. You know that, right? He's a US citizen, and a Marine stationed here."

"If I read the file right, General, his contract expired five years ago. I think we should find out, first, if he wants to extend his commission, or move onto other things." Merlin gave Landry a polite, but challenging smile.

Landry laughed, "Fair enough. If anything, I believe Captain Dallon has quite a bit of leave time on the books."

* * *

 

"Command of SG-1...wow," Gwaine stated, as if he knew the actual significance. When he was last in the SGC, SG-1 was the team that seemed to catch the most flack, and find the most trouble. Now, however, they appeared to have become a legend on the base.

"Yep...but, I am supposed to start from scratch. Carter is off in Area 51, Dr. Jackson is heading to Atlantis, and I'm supposed to head out in about an hour to go try and convince Teal'c to come back. Don't suppose you want on the team?" Cameron put his hands together in supplication, and mouthed 'please, please, please'.

"...And take orders from you? Ha! You must have really knocked your head in that crash. Naw, think I'm gonna take some leave and get myself back into the twenty-first century. Maybe try and find my sister...see if Pops is even still alive."

"Oh, that old man of yours is still kickin'. Calls me every few months to see if I've heard anything about you."

Gwaine smiled at that, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Cameron leaned back and rolled his neck. "Oh, I was out a couple nights ago, at this kick ass bar, and the women there...bro, what happened, you looked for a minute there like I'd just run over your favorite puppy?"

Gwaine shook his head and scrunched his eyes against the emotions that started to hit him. "Nothing...I...uh..." He blinked rapidly and rubbed at his eyes. "It's just that, I recently lost someone I cared about...before I was rescued and all. Let's just say, I'm not ready for the dating scene, right now."

Cameron stood up and moved the chair out of the way. He moved closer to the hospital bed and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, me too. Actually, it's kind of funny, and I don't think it's hit me yet; how many people I've lost. Everyone who I knew...whom I was close to back there...they're all gone. Dead and buried centuries ago, except Percival... and I don't think he realizes it yet either, or maybe he does. I never can tell with him sometimes."

"Gwaine!" The large man he was just speaking of, came bolting into the infirmary, a huge smile on his face.

Gwaine quickly wiped his face and returned the enthusiastic grin. "What is it?"

"You'll never guess who's here!"

He was right, Gwaine never would have guessed; not in a thousand years, probably not in a million.

Sauntering around the corner, chatting up the CO[7] of the base, was Merlin.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, neither man truly able to believe the other was really in front of him.

The other man put on a cheeky grin. "Hello, Gwaine!"

Cameron patted his friend on the shoulder, one last time, and said, "Well, I'll catch up with you more later, Dallon. I gotta go see a guy about a drummer for my band."[8]

Gwaine nodded, "Thanks Cameron. We'll have to go get that drink when you return."

"Oh, and hey Dallon," Cameron said, just before he dashed out the door. "Lose the accent."

After he left, Merlin slipped in beside Gwaine. He blinked in disbelief. "How the hell did you manage to pull this off?"

"I could ask the same thing about you."

"It's a long story..." Merlin said, almost wistfully.

"Isnt it always?" Neither of them wanted to elaborate on their stories at the moment.

"Well, Colonel Emrys, if you need anything, just let me know. I gotta actually pretend I work around here." General Landry said, before leaving the room.

Gwaine noticed the darker skinned woman in the uniform nearby, when she spoke, "Dr. Lam, I was informed Captain Dallon's condition is partially due to a suspected adder bite, yes?"

"Ah, we believe so...are you a doctor?" Carolyn Lam asked.

"I am." She turned and smiled at Gwaine. "May I have your permission to review your file?"

"Uh..."

"Don't worry, this is Martha Jones. She understands a lot more than you can imagine about these types of things," Merlin said, cryptically.

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

Martha waited for the base's doctor to start heading towards her office, and shot Merlin a wink before following. He gave her smile in return, which Gwaine had never expected to see on his scrawny friend.

Once the three men from Camelot were alone, they looked at each other. None of them sure what to say about the unusual circumstances they found themselves in.

Finally, Gwaine broke the stalemate and held out his hand towards Merlin. "Captain Gwaine Dallon, US Marines, Special Forces."

Merlin took his hand and shook it. "Merlin, from Ealdor...a hell of a long time ago." He looked expectantly at Percival.

"What?" The large man asked, not quite understanding why his friends felt the need to reintroduce themselves. "You know me. You saw me less than a fortnight ago, before Camlann."

Merlin pursed his lips. Gwaine chuckled at the man's unexpected reaction.

"Alright, maybe this will go better if we tell each other the whole story."

"I agree," Merlin snapped out. It took a hell of a lot to confuse him after all the centuries...and this situation certainly had.

Gwaine took a sip of his, now cold, coffee, and began his version of the tale. He explained to Merlin how he got into the military, and more specifically how he ended up back in Camelot. "I was told it was some sort of solar flare that caused the wormhole to jump. No one ever expected a Gate to be hidden in the British Isles. They've sent a team over to investigate and try to locate it."

"Where was it located?" Merlin asked.

"You know that cave in the Valley of the Fallen Kings you went to, last time I saw you?"

He sniggered, "Well, they're never going to find it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I hid it with my ma..." his voice trailed off, and he looked at the other two men, nervously.

"Magic?" Gwaine grinned.

"You have magic?" Percival asked, his eyes searching the room to make sure they were alone.

"Uh...huh." He managed to look rather contrite.

Gwaine chuckled, "Yeah, I kind of guessed it when I first met ya. I mean, I grew up reading about the great wizard Merlin and all that. Hell, my mom actually named me after...bloody hell." He stopped. He didn't know how to react. He came to the realization that he was named after...himself.

Merlin imitated a fish rather well, opening and closing his mouth. He burst out laughing, unable to contain himself. "Why am I not surprised?"

Percival groaned, before finally chuckling, too. He may not have been able to grasp the entire conversation, but he could understand the basics of Gwaine's epiphany.

"Enough already!" Gwaine said in an exasperated tone. Although quite humorous, he was ready to hear Merlin's side of the story before embarrassing himself even more.

However, Merlin wasn't done listening to how the two knights managed to get to the twenty-first century. "So, how did you find your way home?"

Gwaine stared across the room. Percival took that as his cue to continue the tale. "We...went after Morgana. We thought we could ambush her, at least to give you more time to save the king."

"And to get revenge," Gwaine said, softly.

"I thought Gwaine was dead, when I finally got to him after I freed myself. She had tied me up. But then, some of these people came. They hit me with one of their..."

"Guns," Gwaine supplied, "he took round to the shoulder."

The large man nodded, rubbing at the bandage beneath his borrowed shirt, and continued, "Next thing I knew, they had Gwaine and me, and were taking us through that large metal circle, they call a 'Gate'. We arrived here, and they managed to save him. That was about four days ago, at least from what they say. I can't tell day from night, in this place."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. He was about to open his mouth and speak, when Martha and the Dr. Lam came back into the room.

"Well, we've figured it out," she said with a smile. "The snake that bit you, was an extremely rare...and now extinct...offshoot of the adder, known as a 'nathair'." The raised eyebrows, and slight head nod she gave, indicated a deeper meaning that was not lost on the warlock.

Merlin looked at her appraisingly. Throughout the years, he'd managed to record and salvage books on creatures and magical items found in the Old Religion. There was so much information, he could barely remember a quarter of it on a good day. Only recently, due to Martha's receptiveness and ability to accept even the oddest of oddities, had he begun to share his wealth of knowledge with her.

Merlin searched his memories for more information on the creature...and came up blank. Sometimes it really annoyed him to be so old. He realized his memory hadn't left him, like it would for a normal person, but there was just too much stuffed in his head to sift through. He chuckled when Martha, realizing his issue, handed him a tablet with the information on it. It took barely a glance at the picture for his memory to finally click.

"Ah," he said, with a nod.

The doctor, who had made Percival blush, looked at the two UNIT officers. "For an extinct creature, you seem to know a lot about it." Her tone left no room for doubt, that she thought they were up to something.

"It's a hobby of mine, and I'm afraid my enthusiasm for the bizarre and exotic, has rubbed off on my companion." Merlin tried to explain.

"I see..." The doctor turned to Gwaine. "Well, according to Dr. Jones here, there is a way to reverse the neurotoxins that are still affecting your system."

"If I may borrow some of your equipment, I should be able to start working on the anti-venom."

Dr. Lam looked hesitantly between her patient and Jones. Finally, she relented. "I'll just have to get permission from General Landry first." She turned and headed back to her office to make the call.

Martha smirked at Merlin.

"Thank you. Have I told you how much of a dear you are, lately?"

"Well, yeah, but a girl always likes to hear how much she's appreciated." Martha squeezed his shoulder before leaving to find Lam.

"Extinct type of adder?" Gwaine chuckled when the three men were alone again. "So, does your girlfriend really have a cure for it?"

"No..." Merlin said, biting his bottom lip. His eyes darted around the room for a moment before they met Gwaine's. "...but I do, and she's not my girlfriend."

"That's a load of hogwash."

"Seriously," Merlin protested, "she's my fiancée."

Gwaine bit his tongue and laughed.

"What's a fiancée?" Percival asked.

"It means our little Merlin is betrothed," Gwaine explained. Turning back to Merlin he gave a thumbs up. "Good for you, my friend...about time you found someone."

The warlock looked away, his ears darkening with embarrassment. "Actually, she's not my first wife." At Gwaine's look of astonishment, Merlin continued, "I've been married a few times. You try living for centuries all alone. It's nice to find someone to share it with, from time to time. Now, do you want me to do this, or not?"

"With your magic, huh?"

The warlock gave a shrug. "Only if you want me to."

"Hell, why not. What's the worst that could happen?."

Percival crossed his arms in front of his chest, defensively. "Gwaine, are you sure? Magic is supposed to be evil."

"Do you think the man that shot you with the gun was evil?"

The large man thought for a moment. "No, it was a miscommunication. I didn't know they were there to help, and I thought I was protecting you."

"Same thing, I'd wager. Could you imagine Merlin here being evil?"

Percival shook his head immediately. "Never."

Merlin's heart soared. He never realized how much, even after so many centuries, what their acceptance would mean to him. "I should have told you both, long ago."

"And I should have told you about my own past, Merlin," Gwaine confided.

"No...I don't think I was ready for this," he motioned to the room around them, "back then."

"Fair enough." Gwaine rubbed his hands together. "So, what do you need to do?"

Merlin began explaining to his friend that there were two ways he could go about it. Either a quick burst of magic, to fully remove the remaining effects of the nathair, or a slower process that would appear more natural to those around them. As much as Gwaine wanted to be back on his feet, he realized a sudden miracle might not be the best choice without exposing his friend.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

 

**Chapter Four:**

* * *

For the first thirty minutes in the rented car, Percival sat in the backseat with a white-knuckled grip on the door handles. His face was a very pale shade of green. The young man had never known of anything to move so quickly. He felt mildly claustrophobic when he first sat down. His eyes were wide and breath was shaking. The large silver piece of box metal, although fascinating to look at, was rather akin to some demonic beast, with its glowing eyes and loud noises.

He wondered if Gwaine knew about these things. It was odd to think, that after knowing the man for five years, he would know so little about him. Then there was Merlin...another person whom Percival thought he knew, but obviously didn't. However, he realized that these were the same men with whom he'd fought alongside for years. He had never told them much about his past either, although it wasn't as elaborate or secretive as theirs. Personal history was just something a man didn't consider on the battlefield. Their lives were about living in the moment. Gwaine taught him that, were he to be honest with himself.

Percival couldn't find room in his heart to blame them for their secrets. Either one of them would have found himself swinging from the gallows, had he been revealed...or, at best case scenario, would have been simply banished by Arthur.

Reluctantly, the large knight had folded himself into the automobile, after an explanation by Merlin about how it was similar to the metal barding on a tax collection carriage...just minus the actual horses pulling it. Martha sat behind the steering wheel, navigating deftly through the stop-and-go of evening rush hour traffic. Merlin sat in the passenger seat, half-facing back, ready to help calm Percival with magic, if needed.

Merlin, at first, tried talking to Percival in an effort to distract him from the overwhelming sights, sounds and smells of the new world. He soon gave up, and settled for just hoping they would make it through the drive without any major incidents. After realizing how much strain modern society was putting on his old friend, Merlin had cancelled their reservations at the hotel. Instead of a decent room, close to the Base, he redirected his search for a vacation cabin, higher in the hills of the Rocky Mountains. He finally found one about an hour's drive outside of the Springs.

It was a cabin, a little way off the beaten path, and set in the middle of about four acres. It was a perfectly quiet place for the Dark Ages knight to have a breather and get his bearings. Once they pulled off the main highway and began their ascent into the mountains, Percival finally loosened his grip.

Merlin glanced at the armrests on the doors of the car. The inside door handles were marked with very large finger-sized holes. "Hey, Love, you did get that extra insurance, right?" He asked Martha, jokingly.

The large knight looked ashamed as he noticed the damage he had caused. "Merlin, I'm sorry..."

Merlin chuckled, "Don't worry about it. That is actually an easy fix. I'll get to it before we return the car."

Percival smiled his appreciation and drew a massive breath through his nose, and blew it out through his mouth, finally starting to relax. He looked out the windows at the world speeding by. "This is smoother than riding in a carriage."

"Much quicker, too." Merlin breathed a sigh of relief as his friend began to actually watch the world through the windows.

The colored lights were the most fascinating for the knight. They looked like sparks of fire on the cars ahead. Sometimes they were an orange color, and flashed in a steady beat that a man could march to. "They have torches inside there?" He asked.

It took Merlin a moment to understand what Percival was asking. He shook his head and laughed, "No, those are called 'tail lights' and well…they're a visual indicator, Percival."

Percival gave Merlin a blank stare. He could see that they were indicating something. By the manner in which the vehicles slowed, or turned, after the lights came on, it was easy to guess what that might be.

"They're like...you remember how wagon drivers would call out a warning when they're on the road and feeling polite?"

Percival's blue eyes shifted from Merlin to the reflective surface of the rearview mirror. He caught the glint of humor in Martha's eyes as she let Merlin ramble.

"Well, this is a signal to let you know that the car in front is slowing down and stopping, and that you should prepare to do the same. Unless you want to flatten them, but we call that road rage, and it's rather frowned upon."

"Which is why I am driving...and not you, darling," Martha said softly.

"Ha! I don't get road rage."

"Oh! So says the man who threatened to start cursing people with raining toads, or unexpected blow-outs, in that major traffic jam last year."

"But I didn't, did I?"

She laughed, "You started to! Yelling out in Old English, and such. How was I supposed to know if you were cursing at people, or actually _cursing_ them?"

"Nothing happened to any one of them." Merlin stated defensively.

"Only because your cell rang, and distracted you."

Percival bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from bursting with laughter, when Merlin crossed his arms and began to pout. For all the changes, it was reassuring to see the same goofy posture and facial expressions on the dark haired man.

"But how do they light up?" The knight asked again after a few minutes, when he thought it was safe. "Are there fireflies in there, or is it magic?"

"Not magic, Percival. Things have...evolved since our time. When the driver hits the break, a signal is sent to the light to turn on in the back."

"There is a reason Arthur throws things at you." Percival muttered, not realizing until after he said the words that his mind had yet to accept that the king was gone.

Merlin didn't appear to have heard him, but the way Martha's expression changed, he knew that she had and was trying not to laugh.

"Oh bloody hell…how about I just find you a book on mechanics and electricity. It'll probably explain it a lot better than I will."

Martha patted her fiancé's knee. "It's alright, love. It is rather hard to explain it all, Percival, especially for those of us that live with it every day. You see, there are people who have been inventing all sorts of things for generations. What was once a torch, was turned into something called a lantern that uses liquid, like alcohol, to burn in a very small area covered with glass...like a protected candle...but then, someone else came up with another idea…

"Okay, so, you know when a blacksmith heats the metal and it begins to glow, yeah?" Martha said, while she drove.

"Yes." Percival nodded.

"Well, there was this one bloke who took a tiny piece of metal and used a different type of fuel to heat it up, so it would glow. Then he stuck it in a glass jar. He realized if he looped it around and around, then he could make the glow even brighter. There's a fuel used in the cars that sort of, heats up the metal through tiny tube-like things, called wires...and those wires take that heat to the metal in the glass jars...they now call light bulbs, because of their shape. When I push down on the pedal, like so..."

Percival was completely enthralled with her story telling. He leaned forward so he could look over the seat to the pedal she was indicating.

"It's kind of like the bellows on a forge. It causes the electricity, or heat, to move very quickly through the wires and makes the metal inside the bulb glow brighter. See?" She smiled and glanced back at the knight.

Percival's face was lit up with comprehension. He clapped Merlin roughly on the shoulder. "Why couldn't you have just said that in the first place?"

Merlin pursed his lips, and shook his head. "That's why I plan on marrying this woman. She's bloody brilliant."

The blond knight ran a hand over his short hair and began directing more questions towards Martha.

Merlin sat back and listened, just as fascinated by her explanations, as his friend was. He wondered how he would have handled going from the Dark Ages to modern day if he hadn't lived through the changes. He knew, from his own experience, that the analogies she gave Percival were rather inaccurate, but they worked for the large man's comprehension...and right now, that was all that mattered.

The stopped off at a local grocery store on the way to their destination. While Percival was indeed fascinated by the idea of the indoor market concept, he chose to stay in the car with Martha, while his friend went inside to grab some supplies for their stay in the wilderness.

Once Merlin was gone, the large man turned to Martha. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah." She looked at him, slightly confused, "Why do you ask?"

"He just seems so different...from how he used to be," Percival stated softly.

"Well, a lot of time has passed for him."

"I suppose. I guess I don't really understand that part of it, yet." He stared at his hands for a moment, before looking out the window. "It really was less than a fortnight ago that I saw him, but he barely seems to remember anything about me, or Gwaine. How is that possible?"

Martha offered him a comforting smile. "Time is kind of like a string. Most of the time, it is laid out straight and our lives can be marked, going from one end to the other. Sometimes, though, the string loops around on itself, so two parts are overlapping." She thought for a moment, before hopping out of the car. "I'll be right back."

When she returned, she had with her a small sewing kit. Martha pulled out a few different colors of thread.

"How does string explain what happened to Gwaine, and myself?" Percival asked.

"Okay, so we'll use red for Gwaine's life, yellow for yours, and blue for Merlin's. So Gwaine started out here, and because of the Stargate, he was sent back in time, when he met you and Merlin." She demonstrated by laying the blue and yellow together on the passenger seat. Martha then took the red one and tied it to the blue and yellow. "The knot here is to represent when you guys met. Now, you travelled together for a while before everything happened."

The three strings laid together, and she added another knot in them a few inches from the first. Then she separated the blue string from the other two. "You and Gwaine were brought back through the Stargate to this time and place, while Merlin stayed in the sixth century." Martha picked up the blue thread, still attached to the spool and began looping it over different things around the car. She handed the spool to Percival and instructed him to wrap it around the headrests behind him, before handing it back to her.

He did as she asked, wondering where she was going with 'Merlin's thread'. Handing it back to her, he waited patiently; watching, as she finally brought it back and tied it with the other two colors. She held all the three strings together near the knot where Merlin's thread originally separated from his and Gwaine's. "Now, this is how Merlin's life has gone, compared to yours."

Martha witnessed the dawning realization that spread over the large man's face. While his thread, and Gwaine's were short and tied together. The blue one was so long. "How does he keep it from tangling?"

"He hasn't always, but he's doing the best he can," she shrugged. Even after a year of travelling through space and time, she felt her own life had tangled a bit along the way. "I think most would become complete nutters, if they had to live through so much." Her voice was soft and thoughtful, as her dark brown eyes followed the string. It was something she already knew about, but laying it out for Percival's comprehension, gave her a completely new appreciation for the man she was soon going to marry.

The car door opened, and Merlin dropped a few bags onto the car floor. "I swear these Yanks are going to drive me bonkers with their rudeness. Why the hell can't I just have a civil conversation with a checker about the roads ahead, without some bloody impatient prat trying to make a point of how his time is so much more valuable than mine? I nearly gave him a piece of my mind about 'time.'" He sat down in the car and he found himself caught up in a mess of string. "What the hell?"

Martha and Percival shared a glance and started to laugh.

* * *

 

"Try it," Merlin encouraged, handing his friend a can of beer. The sun had just set over the Rockies, and they sat on the front porch of the rented cabin, enjoying the peaceful evening.

It was much drier in this place than anywhere else Percival had been. The cicadas and crickets called out to the coming night; the air sharp with the smell of pine sap. He could still vaguely catch a hint of what Merlin called smog, but it was much fainter here in the forest. Martha was inside, preparing supper for the three of them, allowing the two men to have some quiet time on the porch.

"I don't drink much myself, but I've had more this week than I had all year...and that totals a whole three of them." Merlin admitted, after he popped open the tab on his can. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have even thought much about drinking. It was the one true giveaway that he was stressed about the situation. "I figure, I had best start building up my tolerance with Gwaine around."

Percival snickered, "Tastes a bit better than Evoric's swill."

Merlin made a face before the name finally clicked. "The Rising Sun...right. I wouldn't even be able to tell you the difference, nowadays."

"I know. Martha explained it to me. You've got a very nice lady for yourself there."

The dark-haired man smiled, "Yeah, I do."

"We used to worry about you. I don't think I remember ever seeing you even take an interest in a girl back home...and there were a few interested in you."

Merlin laughed, "Well, I was always too busy slaving away for Arthur, if I remember." He inhaled sharply, remembering something. "There was one girl, though. My first love...blimey, I can't even remember her name now. She was killed. Wow, why can't I remember her name?"

"Because, it's been a very long time."

"Yes, it has." He took a drink out of his can and levelled his gaze on Percival. "What do you mean you used to worry about me?"

"Myself, Arthur...Gwaine especially. You never shut up, but never said anything at the same time. Never saw you with a girl, though now that I know your first love died, I suppose I can understand that. Why didn't you ever tell any of us about her?" The knight asked, unwilling to let the matter drop.

Merlin shrugged, "Probably, because she was cursed. I have seen her spirit, from time to time, since then. Just glimpses in still pools of water, things like that. Magic was involved and...well, we lived in Camelot."

"You had magic the whole time?"

Merlin's eyes met Percival's. "Yes, I did."

"That can't have been easy," the big man said. He still felt rather uncertain about the idea of magic. It had only been a few days since Morgana used hers on Gwaine. He took a serious look at Merlin and thought back over Gwaine's words. All the years, with Merlin at their side...it had to be true. He could never see Merlin as evil. "Did Arthur ever find out?"

"Only at the end."

Percival finished off his beer, which he thought was much better than the coffee substance, and set the can down on the deck. "What happened to him...after Camlann?" At the Base, he and Gwaine had already told their side of the story to Merlin, but now the knight was ready to hear Merlin's.

The warlock thought briefly about waiting to tell them together, but he figured Gwaine might have already guessed the outcome, if he knew anything about the legends. "I...uh...wasn't able to save him." He swirled his can between his knees, his elbows resting on his legs. "I tried, but it wasn't meant to be..."

Merlin told his friend everything he could remember, surprising even himself, with how easily the memories flowed. He figured that his subconscious must have understood that the information was now relevant, and was allowing him to access the nearly forgotten past. He talked about Gwen, and the baby, although he couldn't recall the name of Arthur's son. "I've tried looking in every book I could find, and there are three or four names listed as Arthur's sons, but each one seems wrong."

"A few hours ago, I think I would have been upset to know you couldn't remember something like that."

"And now?"

"Now, I think you're lucky to not be completely insane with it all." Percival finally asked, "What happened to the queen, and her son?"

"Sickness…a plague swept through the land. Gaius was among the first to fall victim."

"I see." The knight understood, without Merlin actually saying, what had befallen Guinevere and the child. He sat in silence. Although he was the king, Arthur was a warrior, first and foremost. The wound he took at Camlann was almost expected, and Percival had already come to terms back in Camelot, that the king might never return. The unexpected loss of the queen, hit him hard. Had Merlin told him of a glorious life she'd led after Arthur's passing, reigning over the kingdom; he could have accepted it easier. "Everyone's gone, aren't they? The people from Camelot...except for you, me, and Gwaine."

Merlin nodded, "Yes, long ago."

"Do you think we can use that Stargate thing to go back?"

The warlock contemplated for a few minutes. "I don't think so. Martha could probably tell you why..." he chuckled, "...obviously much better than I ever could."

Percival smiled sadly.

"I wouldn't want to go back," Merlin finally admitted. Upon the questioning look from Percival, he continued, "I don't think I could live through all that again, without becoming seriously jaded. Plus, I would miss what I have here…like Martha, and now you and Gwaine."

"Lancelot knew, didn't he? ...About your magic."

Merlin nodded slowly. A vision of the black-haired knight came into his mind. "Hmm..." he said more to himself, than to Percival. "I can actually remember him rather clearly." The warlock was surprised by this revelation...and it was obvious in his voice.

"I wonder why that is? Can you remember Arthur in the same way?"

Shaking his head, Merlin sighed, "Not as well. Huh...weird."

The front door opened and Martha appeared with a phone in her hand. "It's Gwaine, calling from the Base," she stated, passing Merlin the cell phone.

"What do you want?" Merlin said into the phone, with a cheeky grin. He stood, and walked to the opposite end of the long porch that ran the entire width of the front of the cabin.

Martha sat down in the seat he vacated and smiled at the knight. "How are you holding up?"

The large man shrugged, "Well enough, I suppose. Merlin doesn't think I'd ever be able to go back home."

"No...I mean, you could, theoretically, but you wouldn't be able to be a part of the life you used to live...or he would have remembered you. Merlin's lifetime seems to be an odd 'fixed point,' as a friend of mine...the one who taught me about time travel, would have said. I have another friend, Jack, who has similar issues. I've introduced them, but Merlin isn't too fond of him."

"So, I'm stuck here."

She reached over and patted his knee. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

Merlin came back to them and slumped down on the floor, his back against the porch rails. "Well, it seems, because he can now wiggle his toes, Dr. Lam wants to start the paperwork to transfer him to a local hospital, for rehab and a full psych eval. They're planning to move him tomorrow. So, we won't be able to see him again until the evening."

The large knight blinked in confusion. He looked immediately to Martha for an explanation.

"That's a good thing." She turned to Percival, after Merlin nodded. "That gives you most of the day tomorrow to just relax. Now, come along, both of you. Supper is almost ready."

* * *

 

Percival woke with a start. Sweat covered his brow. His muscles were tense, and his breathing ragged. He could still hear Gwaine's scream, ringing in his ears. It took a few moments for him to realize that he wasn't in the forest, tied by his wrists to the trees. He was in this new world, where the sights, sounds, and smells were overwhelming. Gwaine was in the mountain military base, being taken care of by the Lady Doctor…alive and safe from Morgana and her ilk.

Merlin had killed Morgana, with Arthur's sword. That was what his friend had told him the previous evening, when Percival asked about the king. It was over. The war with the witch...was over, and Arthur had barely lived to see that happen. Percival felt like he wanted to curl into a ball, and do nothing more than mourn the people who had been lost. It was as if he were reliving the deaths of his family, all over again, because those people...the knights and the king...they were his family.

Taking a deep breath, he decided: he wouldn't succumb to depression. He would grieve for them all, but Percival took heart in the idea that if Merlin could survive through it all…and more, then so would he.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he quietly padded up to the door. At the Base, they had acquainted him with many of the basics about living in this new century. Despite what Gwaine believed, Percival was actually rather impressed by the idea of indoor plumbing. The shower especially, was something the large man really enjoyed. He figured that the magically...'No, it wasn't magic,' he corrected himself. 'The mechanically-made hot water,' would do him good.

He opened the door and heard voices. He paused. There was only one actual bedroom in the cabin. His chivalrous nature tried to convince Martha to take the more private space for herself, but she wouldn't hear of it. Instead, Martha insisted that he take it. She and Merlin could sleep on the 'pull-out' bed that unfolded from the sofa. Percival was a little uneasy that the couple wasn't married yet, but the two didn't seem to recognize any issues with it, so he let it slide.

"You're so tense," he heard Martha comment.

"It's been a stressful day. A lot of old memories have been resurfacing for me lately, and now with Gwaine and Percival here...I'm concerned about what might be ahead of us."

"Things happen for a reason. Wouldn't you rather have them by your side if something does come about?"

"Mmm-hmm. My concern is, with the world the way it is now, has the definition of Albion changed? It was once just the island and the kingdoms upon it. Now, though, I wonder if the term was meant to be more philosophical, than literal."

"As in, if it had been just the world known to you at the time; but since you know the world to be so much greater now...then could it be more?"

"Yeah...'When Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again,' is what Kilgharrah told me. Those words have been etched on my soul for far too long."

"What do you think it means then?" Martha asked. Even without seeing her face, Percival could hear the concern in her voice.

"I wish I knew. I have so many theories. Hell, all I have are theories and hypothesise, and not a sodden one of them makes me feel any better about it all. What if he does come back? What threat is going to be so huge that the one and only, great King Arthur is needed? Is he going to be brought back reborn? Has he already been born? Will he randomly appear on the shores of Avalon? Or now, I wonder…and this is a good one…if he actually had been abducted by aliens, moments after his death, and revived! King Arthur and 'The King', living together on the same stinking planet, far off in the galaxy."

"Stop it." Martha said sharply. Percival could imagine her giving Merlin an annoyed look. "You're doing no one any good by stressing about it. If it's all part of this destiny, then, as with your friends today, it'll just happen...and you'll be in the right place, at the right time."

"I know." Merlin changed tack. "So, are you ever going to tell me how you knew that Gwaine and Percival would be here?"

The knight knew it was wrong to continue to eavesdrop, but he was curious about how Martha knew to send Merlin to them, as well.

"When I was travelling with the Doctor, we ended up back there at one point: in Camelot. Oh, don't look at me like that, I figured you had probably already guessed at some point."

There was a softly muttered curse that Percival couldn't quite decipher.

"Well, the first time, we missed the mark...which, if you ever meet the Doctor, is actually quite common. We ended up in the forest, a few kilometers out. The Doctor did a scan and realized there was something wrong. Don't ask me how he knew these things, but he always did."

"Hey, don't start that now," Martha warned. Percival figured that Merlin must have made some facial expression to annoy her.

"I can't help it. I'm still a bit rankled over the fact you left me, after our third date, for a man six hundred years younger."

Suddenly, Merlin yelped.

"I came back to you, didn't I?" She snipped.

The knight snickered into his hand. A moment of silence passed before Merlin's voice came again.

"Oy, Percival! I know you're there. If you're going to eavesdrop, you may as well just get in here and join us."

He felt his face flush with guilt when he appeared around the door frame. "Sorry, I didn't mean to listen in."

Merlin was leaning back against Martha, who was reclining on the back of the expanded hide-a-bed. She had her arms wrapped around Merlin from behind, and smiled at Percival when he entered.

"What were you saying about you being in Camelot?" Merlin asked.

"The Doctor picked up on some odd technology that didn't belong. He found a radio signal linking to something from this time period, but it was faint. So he used his sonic screwdriver to boost the signal, so he could follow it. Apparently, the SG team arrived around the same time, and were able to follow the transmission to find Percival and Gwaine.

"I heard Gwaine scream. I wanted to go to him...to help, you know...but the Doctor held me back. We let the SG team take care of you two, and we headed back to the TARDIS."

"I don't understand how, but if you and this Doctor helped to save Gwaine. I am in your debt." Percival bowed his head towards Martha.

"But that doesn't explain how you knew about me," Merlin said. He refused to let her weasel out of the story so easily.

"Well, we got back to the TARDIS and we were planning on just a short hop over to Camelot. But he got the time wrong, and when we arrived, it was almost a week later. We watched from the back of the room as the queen was crowned. Oy! The human rights activists would have a field day, if they only knew that Camelot had a black queen."

Percival glanced at Martha, not understanding what she was talking about. "What do you mean, 'black'? She had a kind heart and a pure spirit."

"It's a reference to the tone of a person's skin...kind of like mine." Martha explained, simply.

"I knew something was wrong with all those pictures of Gwen, but I could never seem to figure out what it was." Merlin snickered, "Oh, she would be so mad at me, if she ever found out I forgot what she looked like."

"She would probably just give you a very stern look, and then have Arthur throw you in the stocks." The knight told Merlin.

"...which he would have...gladly."

* * *

 

Early the next morning, Gwaine was roused and prepped for his ride to one of the hospitals, on a nearby base. The noise and smells of the city outside was comforting and yet foreign. He felt a conflict inside himself...a complete loss of identity that he hadn't felt for years.

Arthur was gone. He knew that, without needing Merlin to tell him. Gwaine wasn't sure if he wanted to know the details. He felt that whatever the outcome, he was at least partially responsible for it.

The man driving the ambulance turned on the radio, and Gwaine listened as the music softly filled the interior. It had all felt like a surreal dream until that point. Hearing the voice of the singer, reality seemed to finally click in his mind. He realized he was no longer Sir Gwaine of Camelot, nor would he probably ever be again. However, with three of his best friends of any time period with him, he didn't mind as much as he thought he would. There was a long road ahead of him to merge the man he used to be, and the man he had become...

 

_"Somebody help me get out of Louisiana_  
 _Just to help me get to Houston Town  
_ _There are people there who care a little about me  
_ _And they won't let the poor boy down_

_"Sure as she bore me, she bought me a silk suit_  
Put luggage in my hand  
 _And I woke up high over Alburquerque  
_ _On a jet to the promised land."*_

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five:**

* * *

 

He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain that had begun to appear in his lower limbs, since Merlin's spell. It was bittersweet. He was grateful to be able to have sensation return, but the pain was utter hell. The doctors put him through a set of evaluations to set up his physical therapy regimen. He laughed to himself, when he heard one of the therapists refer to a piece of equipment as a medieval torture device. 'If they only knew...' he thought cynically.

Afterwards, they tried to encourage him to take some painkillers, but after seven years of only taking herbal concoctions, he stubbornly held out against the modern equivalents.

The last nurse left, after unsuccessfully trying, once again, to get him to agree to some pain management. Gwaine closed his eyes and laid back on his bed. His room was a private one, for which he was thankful. A long window faced the west, and the room was high enough that he could see the Rockies in the distance.

On the lower horizon, the muted colors and reflective glass surfaces of the city bled into the greens and browns of the forested foothills. foothills. Moving upwards, they blended into darker shadows of blue as they transitioned to the actual mountains climbing towards the sky. At around the twelve-thousand foot level, the trees began to thin out. Five-hundred feet higher, and they were gone altogether.

From his room, he could see where the blues of the forest ceased abruptly and gave way to a mixture of gray stone and white frost, in an area known as timberline. Close to another two-thousand feet beyond that, was the nearly year-round snow-capped summit of one of Colorado's "14ers"[1]. Pikes Peak stood strong and tall.

Gwaine had hiked it, quite often, years ago. He could almost remember the taste of the crisp, thin air, as it burned and stole the oxygen from his lungs. White puffs of steam would escape his mouth with each breath. On a clear day, a man could see all the way to Kansas and Oklahoma from that height.

He had a brief thought. He wondered if Percival had ever experienced the joys of altitude sickness. 'Probably not,' Gwaine thought, as the highest point in the British Isles barely topped four-thousand feet. He was sure he was going to have some fun torturing his friend. He planned to take the large man on a ride up the Cog Railway, since it would be unlikely that Gwaine could hike up Pikes Peak on foot anytime in the foreseeable future.

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep, until he heard the door of his room open.

"Sheesh! You haven't gotten your lazy ass out of that bed yet, Dallon?" Cameron's voice dripped with sarcasm.

He thought about telling his buddy where he could shove the hospital bed, while he yawned...but he refrained, "How're you today, Cameron?"

"Oh, you know, still waiting for you to say 'yes', and agree to be on my team when you get upright again."

"No luck with the others, I gather?" As much as he enjoyed bantering with his longtime friend, Gwaine hoped the visit would be short.

"Nope. Still waiting to hear back from Carter. I was supposed to start going through personnel files today, but then I got the weirdest call, and had to go pick up a couple of people from the airport."

Gwaine gave the other man a tired look. "I'm really not feeling up to hearing your life story today."

"Well, actually, the people I picked up, are part of your life." Cameron went to open the door. Waiting anxiously behind it were two people, who, just weeks ago, Gwaine had resigned himself to never seeing again.

A woman, a few years older than Gwaine, with the same chestnut hair and dark brown eyes, pushed her way in.

"Laney?" Gwaine gasped, realizing it was his sister.

"Where the hell have you been?" She said with a raised voice. She came up to him and punched his shoulder.

Gwaine winced and his sister immediately looked ashamed. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. They told us you were found injured, I didn't mean to..."

Chuckling through his discomfort, he put his hands on hers to stop her rambling. "It's alright. I'm going to be fine." He found himself suddenly smothered by a hug.

"Elaine, quit babying him." A gruff old voice said sternly.

Gwaine looked up to see his grandfather, waiting patiently at the foot of the bed. His eyes shifted back and forth between his sister and Pops. "You two...in the same room together?"

"Yeah. Well, someone had to come take care of him after his first heart attack, when we got word you were MIA."

"Heart attack?" Gwaine felt a heavy guilt settle on him. He tried to push himself more upright in the bed.

"I'm fine, now." Pops said, brushing off his grandson's concern.

Gwaine took a moment to look at the man he grew up with. Boyd Dallon was over eighty years old by now. Gwaine had never known his grandfather's exact age. His hair was fully white, and much thinner than Gwaine remembered. The old man who used to stand straight and strong, was now hunched over and carried a sadness to him that the knight had never expected to see. He was dressed in much the same as Gwaine remembered: a button-down plaid shirt with rolled up sleeves, faded jeans, and a worn-out out Stetson clutched in his hands. Glancing down at Pops' feet, Gwaine was surprised to see the orthopedic shoes in place of old, beat-up Justin boots.

"I'm sorry, Pops...I didn't mean to..." Gwaine felt his eyes beginning to sting. The lack of a full night's sleep, increased amount of physical pain, and the mental anguish of the past couple of weeks began to hit him. Seeing his grandfather appearing so much older than he remembered, and feeling it was his own fault for being gone so many years, was extremely difficult. He inhaled sharply and turned towards the window, away from the three people in his room.

He turned back when he felt a trembling hand squeezing his shoulder. His grandfather's rheumy eyes blinked at him from the bedside, and Gwaine lost his thin hold over his emotions. The two men embraced. All of Gwaine's pain coming out in a pool of tears, on the shoulder of the man who meant more than anything to him.

Gwaine didn't see Cameron quietly tap Laney on the shoulder and motion towards the door. She looked over at the two men and understood. She was never as close to their grandfather as Gwaine had been. Laney allowed Cameron guide her out into the hallway, leaving them alone.

"What happened to him?" She asked the colonel after the door closed.

Cameron looked down for a moment before meeting her eyes. "It's classified."

"Bull shit! He's my brother, I have a right to know."

"No, Laney, you don't." He stated firmly. "I can tell you, the mission he was on went south due to a technical malfunction. He was MIA...and a held hostage, for a time. He's back now, and everything will be fine."

Her arms crossed defensively in front of her, and she gave him a measured glare. "Until you, or someone else, drags him back into it all. What the hell am I supposed to do about Boyd? I can't keep taking care of him!"

"Is that what this is about? Who's going to take care of your grandfather?"

The brunette woman suddenly looked ashamed. "No...I just know it'll kill the old man if anything else happens to Gwaine, and I don't want to bury him alone."

Cameron nodded and let the subject be. He began walking down the hall. "How many rug rats you got now?"

"Three boys."Laney replied, thankful for the brief change in topic, so she could rein in her emotions. "The oldest is almost a teenager, and all but my youngest absolutely hate living in Wyoming, but the old man refuses to leave the ranch."

"What about that guy you married?" He asked.

She chuckled sourly. "He claims Boyd drove him off, but the asshole was just looking for an excuse not to be a father anymore."

"Ouch." The Air Force Colonel was feeling sorry that he had asked.

* * *

 

"Don't they have a good razor in this place?" Boyd asked, finally pulling back from his grandson.

Gwaine flipped his hair out of his eyes and chuckled, while wiping his face. "I kind of like the longer hair."

"Yeah, you always were a rebel." The old man looked around the room and spied a chair nearby.

Gwaine noticed, and at first he automatically tried to move to assist, but a jolt of pain had him pinned to the bed with a hiss. "Let me call a nurse and have 'em move a chair closer to the bed for you." Gwaine offered, as the pain slowly subsided back to a numbing ache. He was seriously rethinking the wisdom of his choice with Merlin the night before. Making a mental note to himself, he decided to speak with his friend about it later.

"No, no...I got it. No need to bother anyone else for something as simple as moving a chair. Hell, I ain't even able to move around my own house anymore without that sister of yours nagging at me." Boyd finally managed to slide the chair across the floor. He sat down in it, clearly out of breath. Gwaine watched him in silence. "Well, aren't we just a couple of coffee boilers, sitting here and doin' nothing."

The younger man chuckled.

"I don't suppose...you could tell me what happened to ya?"

Gwaine shook his head. "I Wish I could, Pops."

"Well, you just cowboy up, and you'll be back to the grind in no time. Did I ever tell you about that time I was shot behind enemy lines?"

"Yes, you did." Gwaine smiled, "but you know I wouldn't mind hearing the story again."

* * *

 

By the time Laney arrived back to the room, she found her grandfather sound asleep in a reclining chair next to the window. Cameron popped his head in and waved goodbye to Gwaine, then went on his way. Laney sat gently on the edge of the bed, near her brother's legs. "You should probably take a page out of Boyd's book there."

"Why can't you just call him 'Pops', or grandpa...or something, Laney. You're always doing whatever you can to get under his skin."

Elaine looked at her brother. "Because I've always called him 'Boyd'. There's nothing wrong with it. I was practically a teenager already when we first met him. Our whole lives uprooted after mom died, taken to a foreign country..."

"It's not his fault!"

"I didn't say it was. Sheesh! You two are always so defensive of each other!" She shifted and put her hand on her brother's leg. Laney immediately removed it when she saw him grimace and ball his fists in the bed sheets. "Have you taken anything for the pain?"

Gwaine shook his head and tried to relax. He could never remember a time when he'd been in so much pain. He wondered if this was close to what Elyan suffered from the nathair, or if this was more a combination of everything that happened.

"You should. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

"Laney, you have no idea what I have been through."

"No, I don't. According to your buddy, Cam, it's doubtful I ever will." They lapsed into silence for a bit. "Can you tell me anything?"

"No...even if I could, there's some things I'm not sure I'd want to talk about."

Elaine sighed heavily. "How long do they think it'll take...for you to get up and moving?"

"They don't even know what's wrong with me."

Laney bit her tongue and studied him for a moment. "But you do...and you're not telling them." She guessed, from the look on his face. She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.

"The meds they try to give me cloud my mind." He said, sidestepping the conversation. There was no way he'd be able to explain to his sister about magic, or the creatures straight out of some horror movie, without her thinking he was completely insane.

"But you're safe here Gwaine, can't you see that?" He didn't respond. "Fine, be a stubborn jackass, if you want. I'm going to go get something to eat. We were on a plane before daybreak, and the 'snack bags' just don't cut it anymore. You want anything?"

He shook his head. Before she could reach the door, it opened, and a large man, with a bright smile came in. She noticed her brother's eyes light up when he spotted the big man.

"Percival!"

"Hello, Gwaine."

Laney thought it odd the way they clasped forearms as a greeting, instead of a handshake. Right now, however, there were quite a few oddities surrounding her brother; a thick British accent, which she had noticed but didn't mention, being another. Two other people came in behind the blond man. The first was a lady with dark skin tone, and had a confident, yet friendly manner, about her. The next was a man, probably near her brother's age, with black hair and blue eyes that appeared far too old for his face.

"Merlin!" Her brother called out with a tired smile.

Laney stopped and crossed her arms. "Percival, Merlin, and Gwaine...bad accent, old fashioned handshakes...what the hell? Were you kidnapped by the SCA* for some Round Table Re-enactment Troupe? ...Forced to joust at the local Renaissance Festival, or be drawn and quartered?"

Gwaine blinked and licked his lips nervously, which wasn't the reaction she had expected.

Merlin came to the rescue. He gave a cheeky grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Actually, that is a bloody good cover story. We should offer that to your CO."

Gwaine rolled his eyes at Merlin in a way that seemed almost too natural.

Percival handed his friend an empty plastic cup that was sitting next to the bed. "You can throw it at him, if you want. It actually does help."

It took Gwaine a moment to comprehend what the large man was referring to. When it dawned on him, he chuckled, took the proffered item and chucked it at Merlin.

Successfully ducking the projectile, Merlin turned to Laney as if such an occurrence was normal. He held out his hand and flashed her a brilliant smile. "Colonel Merl Emrys, and you are?"

"Elaine Dallon."

"Dallon?" Gwaine asked from the bed. "What happened to being Mrs. Phillips?"

Laney rolled her eyes. "Well, when he decided to run off with a nineteen year old bleached blond, I decided to divorce him."

"Oh..." Gwaine wasn't certain how to respond to that. "How's...Toby taking it?"

"Well, there isn't just Toby anymore. There're Toby, Greg, and Randy now, and they are handling it...well, they're just handling it." She put out her hands to indicate it wasn't a subject she wanted to address at the moment.

Gwaine nodded in understanding. "Are they here?"

"No, we left them with friends from school. I didn't know how bad you were, or how long we were going to be." She explained.

"Mmm...that's too bad. I can't wait to meet them."

His sister actually smiled pleasantly. "They can't wait to meet their uncle, too. Now, I really need something to eat. Are you sure you don't want anything?"

He grinned slyly and shrugged, "Bud? Coors?"

"Fat Tire?" Laney smirked, and he nodded enthusiastically. His smile widened at the thought of getting to drink one of his favorite beers. "Why not, it's not like alcohol is going to interfere with any medications." She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Laney, I want to apologize for telling everyone over the years, you were an 'old toad.'" Gwaine offered his sister a sincere smile.

She picked up the discarded plastic cup that laid on the floor, and threw it at him. The others started to laugh loudly, but were interrupted by an earsplitting snore from the recliner. Laney shook her head and looked at her grandfather. "Ha! World War Three could be going on, and that man would still sleep through it." She pulled open the door and walked out.

Martha's eyebrow rose in curiosity, and she moved over to the foot of the bed. She pulled out the clipboard with Gwaine's chart and began to review it. The doctor in her noted different aspects of what was written. She began asking Gwaine questions about his levels of pain and movement. Her face gave away nothing, as she processed the information.

"Well?" Gwaine asked, curious about his condition.

"I need to go look up a few things, and do some research, but I think it's a good start." She smiled encouragingly. "I'm going to get some tea. Care to join me?" Martha asked her fiancé.

Merlin nodded and headed towards the door.

"Subtle!" Gwaine called out behind them. He shook his head and turned back to Percival, who chuckled.

* * *

 

She saw the colonel and the woman in the hallway. They were sitting in the seats just outside of her brother's room, and appeared to be in a deep discussion. The woman's back was towards her, and the man was facing forward on the other side of her.

Laney ducked into a nearby doorway to listen. Their accents were thick, and she wondered why her brother, who had supposedly been held as a prisoner of war, would be receiving visits from people like them. The 'Colonel' especially was an enigma. He appeared far too young for the rank he held...except for his eyes. Even when he joked about the cover story, Laney could see there was so much hidden in their blue depths.

"...I don't understand, Martha. What I did, should have worked better than it appears to have. He shouldn't be in so much pain." The colonel told his companion, which made Laney wonder if he was a doctor of some sort.

Martha shrugged, "I agree. According to his charts, and scans they did at the SGC, the physical injuries wouldn't account for this level of pain and weakness in his limbs. It's probably more psychosomatic than anything else, due to the torture and the shock of being home."

"...and the betrayal." Merlin wiped a hand over his face. "I can't imagine the hell he's going through over that. I'd never seen him so happy. Then, to have her betray him...betray all of us, like that...he was in love with her.

"I'd only heard about it...what she did, after the fact. I was so wrapped up in my own grief at the time...on top searching for him and Percival. I remember, Leon and I spent years looking for some sign of them, only to come up empty handed. That woman was the reason he was captured."

"You want my suggestion?"

Merlin nodded, "Always."

"We need to take him back to England." Laney could see the shock visible on the man's face. Martha continued, "I can work out a transfer based on his psychological symptoms, so you can take him back to where you all were just before it happened. I understand how different things are there now, but it's the only way I can think of for him to try and get some closure...and hopefully, move forward with the healing process."

"Good luck in getting my brother to go anywhere with you, out of that hole he's dug himself into...especially if he thinks that you're trying to act like a shrink." Laney said, finally making her presence known.

Martha turned around in surprise. Merlin barely batted an eyelash.

"Look, I know my brother, or at least I used to," she explained. "Unless there's some other reason for him to go there, he's probably not going to budge."

Merlin snickered, "You're right, he is rather obstinate.." His face suddenly lit up. "I've got it! I still haven't chosen my best man for our wedding!"

Martha gaped at him. "I thought you were going to talk to Mickey about that?"

He gulped and looked sheepish. "I haven't gotten around to it yet. Mickey will understand!"

Her jaw hit the floor. "The wedding is less than two weeks away!" Martha groaned into her hands.

"I love you." He said giving her a lopsided grin, his eyes wide with feigned innocence.

* * *

 

When the three of them re-entered the hospital room, they were surprised to see Gwaine's grandfather awake. He sat in a chair at one end of the pivoting bed table, which was positioned alongside the bed, instead of over the bed like it was supposed to be. Percival sat facing him at the other end. A deck of cards was set between them.

"Elaine, can you believe this big buster here has never played cards?" The old man asked, picking up the deck and shuffling it, with an ornery twinkle in his eye.

Gwaine was lying back, with his eyes closed, but they could tell he wasn't sleeping.

"Come on, Boyd. The colonel here needs to talk with Gwaine. Why don't we go get some dinner and see if we can find a room for the night." Laney walked over to her brother.

"Colonel, huh?" He scrutinized Merlin and seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. "Oh, we ain't hurting nothing, Elaine. They can talk with us here."

Gwaine sighed, and opened his eyes a crack. "Pops, don't argue."

Boyd looked over his grandson and huffed. He stood up shakily and patted Gwaine's forearm. "You'll be back in the saddle in no time, buck-a-roo. Just remember, you're a Dallon, we always make it."

Brown eyes misted over, as Gwaine smiled at his grandfather. He never realized, while in Camelot, just how much he missed the old man. "Thanks, Pops. I'll see you tomorrow."

The large knight, also bid his friend farewell and left the room with Boyd, asking more about the card game they had been playing.

"Percival and I can drive the both of you to a hotel, and to get a rental car if you like. Then we can come back here to get Merlin." Martha offered.

"That'd be great, thanks." Laney turned back to her little brother. "You know, Boyd would have argued with me six-ways-til-Sunday about leaving. He listens to you though...he always has. Maybe tomorrow, I'll bring you that beer." She leaned down to give him a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm going to hold you to that."

The two men fell silent for a while, after the others left. Merlin leaned back against the cream-hued wall, fascinated by the spectacle of colors outside the window, as the sun began to set behind the mountains. "Can I do anything? ...Get you anything?"

Gwaine shifted in the bed, his level of discomfort obvious. "Can I change my mind about the method of healing? Just have you fix it all at once?"

Merlin's eyes dropped, and he stared at the laminate floor. He didn't know how, or if he should, tell Gwaine that there was nothing more he could do magically. Even though the spell he had performed the day before was supposed to provide gradual healing, the injuries weren't as severe as he had initially thought. Part of him wanted to shake Gwaine, convince him it was all in the man's head. Even though Merlin knew from experience how hard it could be, not only to get through to Gwaine, but also how something like that could do more harm than good.

He settled for one of the half-lies he'd always been proficient in...except when it came to Martha. "I can try, but not here." He shrugged, "Actually, I want to take you home with me."

Gwaine eyed up his friend and then turned to watch the sunset. "I doubt they'll let me out of here, anytime soon." He didn't want to admit, that going back the UK, the place where he'd spent the last seven years of his life, albeit in another time, was the last place he wanted to be.

"Well, they're going to have to." Merlin pushed off the wall and moved next to the chair at Gwaine's bedside. "You see, I'm in a bit of a bind, that only you can help me with."

The knight laughed, "Now that I know you have magic; I doubt I could help much." Gwaine's face changed to an expression of curiosity. "Wait, If you had magic, why did you need me to go with you to the Valley of Fallen Kings?"

The warlock sat down and licked his lips. "I'd lost my magic at that time. Morgana sent a creature to Camelot, that drained it from me. I was going to the Crystal Cave there, in the valley, to try and get it back...but that has nothing to do with why I need you now. My magic, for what it's worth, does me no good, whatsoever, against an angry woman in fear of her wedding day being ruined by an idiot."

"Oh my...that is a pickle." He stared at Merlin with a small grin.

"You see...the wedding is less than two weeks away, and I haven't decided on a best man."

Gwaine nearly rolled off the bed with his laughter.

"Please, Gwaine! For old times' sake, help me!" Merlin pleaded.

Gwaine, at first, wanted to protest, but whether it was two weeks or two thousand years, he couldn't find the heart to deny his first friend from that strange land. "Alright. Alright. If Dr. Jones can swing my release, I'll do it." He may have grumbled about it, but Merlin could see the old spark returning to his friend's brown eyes.

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Six:**

* * *

It took the better part of the week, and a few hours worth of international calls, to get everything set up. Martha had to go back to New York for a couple of days, not only to sort things from her end, but also to make sure she wouldn't be called away in the middle of her wedding.

Gwaine and Laney spent a good deal of time, once Gwaine finally agreed to some painkillers, to hash out a plan between them concerning their grandfather. Boyd reluctantly agreed to consider leasing out his land, cutting back the herd, and moving with Laney and the boys down to Colorado. Gwaine was becoming adamant about eventually returning to work once he got back on his feet after the wedding.

"...Start looking for something out east a bit, even if it's a few leagues away..." He was stopped by his sister's snicker. "What?"

"Leagues? Seriously?"

Gwaine sighed. He wondered how long it had taken him to adapt to the vocabulary, when he had first found himself in the area outside Camelot. 'Surely not that long,' he thought to himself, with a roll of his eyes and a toss of his hair. "Fine, a few kilometers...miles...clicks...whatever! You know what I mean."

His sister was glad to see the change in his attitude, and quietly thanked the young UNIT Colonel for the turnaround. Laney didn't hold back, however, when expressing her jealousy of her brother heading to England. She hadn't visited her childhood home since their mother had died. If it hadn't been for Boyd and her sons, she would have threatened to stow away in Gwaine's luggage.

Percival was adapting, better than Gwaine had anticipated. Each day he visited with stories, told in an excited voice, about his new experiences. "There was this one maiden, who offered to give me her 'digits'...but I don't know why I would have needed her assistance. I was not counting anything at the time."

Finally, everything was in place. Gwaine's travel papers were updated and in order, as were Percival's, along with the knight's new identity. Gwaine was excited to finally be out of the hospital gown and sweatpants, although he couldn't deny the cozy comfort of soft fleece against his skin. He was happy to put on some real trousers for a change.

The first challenge came when they drove up to the local airport. Percival's blue eyes were as wide as they had been during his first car ride. His palms were sweating as he watched the white metal beasts, larger than the dragon he remembered Leon once speaking of, soaring loudly overhead.

After using his magic to repair the car, just before turning in the keys, Merlin was becoming frustrated. Gwaine was hysterical with laughter, calling his friend a grumpy old man, and poor Percival looked like a frantic horse, ready to bolt.

Merlin finally gave his friend three choices. He could get on the plane, and just deal with it. He could stay here in Colorado, and they would make arrangements for him to stay with Gwaine's friend Cameron...at least until the fuzzy haired man was called away for work. Mitchell had begged and pleaded with Gwaine over the phone, earlier. His last hope of reuniting the team he wanted, had fallen through.

Another call went to Dr. Lam. She even made an offer to help assist Percival in acclimating to the time period, if he wished to stay. The offer brought a shy smile to the large man's face. The third option: Merlin could transport the three of them using his magic.

"You can do that?" Gwaine had asked skeptically. Although he had always been the shortest of Arthur's knights, as he looked up to Merlin and Percival from the wheelchair he was in, he felt almost miniscule.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Of course I can. I'm a sorcerer...remember?"

After some deliberation, and the realization that they had missed their flight, Percival acquiesced to the magical means of travel. Even though he had been taught in Camelot that it was evil, he consoled himself with the thought that this was Merlin...and magic was much more familiar than the gigantic metal birds, whose wings didn't flap. Nor did he relish being left behind, alone.

"The devil you know!" Gwaine quipped, garnering a smirk from Merlin as the warlock began dialing his phone.

"Mickey Smith," The thick accent of a young man came through the speaker of the phone.

"Mickey, it's Merlin. Where are you?"

"What? No proper 'Hello, how are you'...and all that? Just 'Where are you?'...as if I'm your personal serving boy. No, sorry, 'manservant.' Hey, what was that word you said you used to call your king? Oh yeah. Prat!" Mickey continued to utter various complaints.

Gwaine and Percival shared a glance. "He's right, you know," the shorter man snickered.

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose and ignored Gwaine. "Mickey..." The warlock barely refrained from telling the other man to 'shut up'. "Hi, how goes it? Now, where are you?"

"Cardiff. At work. Jack says, to tell you 'hello.'"

Merlin flinched. Last year, Mickey and Martha met during a very interesting occurrence, in which the entire planet had been moved.[1] Merlin recalled how all the world agencies had been in a total panic. It was a real awakening for the general populace; that perhaps there was more going on among the stars than they could fathom.

Jack Harkness had offered both Mickey and Martha jobs with Torchwood, but only Mickey took him up on it. Martha declined, for the time being. She and Merlin had spoken about the possibility, and while the warlock never said definitively, he would rather his fiance steer clear of the promiscuous leader of Torchwood.

In all honesty, he wasn't worried about Martha falling for Jack's advances, so much. While Jack had no qualms about any sexuality, he did seem to prefer men, and he had told Merlin, in no uncertain terms, that the warlock was on his 'To Do' list.

"Tell him, I'm still not interested." Merlin said sharply, and cringed as he heard Jack laughing in the background.

Percival looked on blankly, while Gwaine raised an eyebrow, reading the implications in his friend's voice.

"Anyway," Merlin cleared his throat and continued, "I'm going to be arriving shortly, with a couple of friends, and I need a clear landing spot."

Over the years, Merlin had become rather proficient with magical travel, but he found it helpful to end up in a clear field or room he knew well. The added awkwardness of the wheelchair that Gwaine was currently confined to, was bound to make this teleportation even trickier.

"The boss man says I'm not allowed to help you during work hours...without some incentive."

"Oh, you have got to be sodding kidding me!" The warlock cursed. "I'll find someone else to help, then."

"No!" Jack's smooth American accent came through the line in clear sarcastic tones. "God, can't even take a joke, sheesh! We've got a clear spot at an abandoned landing strip, just up the road from the ruins of Caerleon. I'll have Mickey text you the coordinates. Any special requests we need to be made aware of?"

"I have a man in a wheelchair, and we'll be needing transport."

"Who's driving?" Mickey's voice asked suspiciously.

"Me. Why?" Merlin seemed a bit put off by the question.

"Um...that would be a negative." Mickey audibly gulped, "I've heard the stories from Martha. Based on those alone, I wouldn't give you the keys to a moped, let alone a real car."

The warlock protested, "I'm a very good driver!"

Gwaine snickered into his fist. "Okay, Rainman." At the same time, across the phone connection, Mickey uttered something very similar.

The look Merlin gave his friend could have frozen lava.

Percival's face betrayed his confusion, but he felt the need to be somehow included in the conversation with his friends and the two disembodied voices. "Martha says, he suffers from something called 'Road Rage.'"

"Ooh, who does that gorgeously deep, smooth voice belong to?" Jack asked seductively.

The large knight's eyes blinked in shock at the manner in which the man's voice addressed him. He folded his massive arms across his chest defensively, unconsciously taking a step back from the phone.

"This is going to get interesting," the warlock muttered. "How long until you'll be ready on your end?" Just simply appearing in an open area was fraught with complications when using magical means, or even alien technology. From the possibility of witnesses, and cameras...or witnesses with cameras... to landing on an uneven surface; so many things needed to be taken into account. Gone were the days when he could just appear in a field alone, and pass it off as a trick of the eye. It had taken Merlin nearly five years to synchronize his ability with the modern Global Positioning System. With satellite imagery it became easier to actually see where he wanted to end up.

He rarely performed the magic required for the teleportation, although it was simple for him. He enjoyed the idea of flying so much more, and it was less tiresome. He cast his gaze to Percival, who was still shaken from the airport parking lot, and sighed.

"Give us an hour and we'll be ready." Mickey stated.

"Oh, and we can bring a wheelchair. If you want to leave yours there." Jack added.

For once, Merlin was thankful to Jack for his quick thinking. "Aye, we'll do that. Thank you. See you lot in about an hour then." He touched the screen of the phone and cut off the call. "Percival, would you mind carrying Gwaine for a bit?"

"Of course." The large knight had no qualms about assisting his friend. They found a place to store the wheelchair and called Colonel Mitchell, asking if he could swing by at some point to pick it up. They spent the hour finding an out of the way place in the shade of a building. Merlin scanned the area with his eyes and found only one camera.

His shoulders relaxed slightly in relief. Only one camera was easy to fool. The trick would be to cast an illusion of them walking away, at the same time as Merlin basically folded reality around them, to move them to the coordinates Mickey had sent him. He spent the rest of the time in meditation. He had rarely ever crossed such a distance, and certainly not with two other people in tow.

At first Gwaine attempted to make small talk, and encouraged Merlin to explain it to him...until the warlock threatened to dump him accidentally into the Atlantic. The former knight of Camelot shut his mouth with a snap.

The call finally came in. Torchwood was ready. Percival picked up Gwaine and swallowed down a lump in his throat.

The words that flowed out of Merlin's mouth seemed ancient. His eyes glowed like a fire had been lit inside them, and Merlin first directed his hand towards the camera. "Alright, we don't have much time. Are you ready?"

At a tentative nod from the other men, he began uttering a string of syllables that would hopefully take them to the designated spot, just outside Cardiff.

* * *

 

The whirlwind of dust and magic subsided around them. Merlin collapsed the moment his feet materialized on solid ground. He blinked in exhaustion at the blurred hand reaching out to him. Merlin reached for it, thankful to find it belonged to Mickey. While he considered the spell itself to be rather simple, the added power needed for bringing his friends, as well as the distance crossed, caught him off balance. He was thankful, once again, that they had left the wheelchair behind.

Unfortunately for Percival, the large man wavered while holding Gwaine and trying to adjust from the unconventional travel.

"Easy there, big fella." Jack's voice stated as he reached forward to help steady the knight. Once he was certain Percival wasn't going to drop his companion, or fall himself, Jack smiled flirtatiously. His blue eyes indiscriminately roved over Percival. "Hi, Captain Jack Harkness."

"You can flirt later, boss." Mickey said, rolling his eyes.

Jack scoffed, "You know, you're as bad as the Doctor."

"Yeah, well, someone's got to keep you in line."

Percival's boyish face appeared frightened. Gwaine heard him gulp, while still sitting across his friend's large arms, with one arm slung around the massive shoulders to help his balance. He patted Percival on the back. "Relax, I don't think he means anything by it." Gwaine turned to Jack. "You might want to back off a bit, things are a bit...different, where we come from."

Jack raised a dark eyebrow. Blue eyes shined mischievously, and he flashed them a dashing smile that spoke of forbidden promises. "...And where might that be, handsome?"

Groaning and leaning against Mickey for support, Merlin answered, "Not too far from here, but the real question is when, not where."

"Care to elaborate?" Jack asked, now even more intrigued...if that was at all possible.

* * *

 

"So you are really THE Merlin, from all the tale and myths?"

A ceramic mug was placed in front of Merlin on the table, jarring the warlock from his thoughts. They were currently in a safe house owned by Torchwood. Gwaine had been given a fairly heavy dose of a painkilling sedative and was now sound asleep in an upstairs room. Percival sat in a chair close to a window in the sitting room. He stared outside at the traffic going by, his face unreadable. Even though the large knight had never been to Queen Annis' castle, he had seen it from a distance a couple of times, and it looked nothing like the ruins they passed on the way to the safe house.

Merlin began to worry about his friend's mental state. Having walked through time, living through history, it was difficult for Merlin to comprehend just how many changes had taken place. "Yes, I am." He finally answered Jack.

"You know magic is probably just some unstudied form of alien genetics or technology, right?" The Torchwood Agent slumped down in the chair across from Merlin. "I mean, everything has some sort of explanation."

Merlin stared at the man. It was a similar conversation he and Martha had on a few occasions. He'd allowed his betrothed to take blood and tissue samples to study. As of yet, she hadn't found anything significant that could attribute to his magic, or his long life span. "When you find out what it is, be sure to let me know, right?"

"You boys are welcome to stay here, as long as you need to."

"I appreciate that, Jack." Merlin took a sip of the tea in front of him. "I think once Gwaine is rested, I'll probably be taking them to some land I own upriver from here. Then I need to head to London and get married."

Jack chuckled, "Martha is one lucky lady. By the way, where's my invitation?"

"Did Martha not send one out to you?" Merlin clucked his tongue against his teeth. "Shame, it must have gotten lost in the post or something."

"Yeah, like it magically disappeared..." Standing up, he smoothed out his trousers. "I need to get back to headquarters. I'll leave Mickey here, at your disposal, in case you need anything."

Merlin smiled and sat up straighter. He held his hand out in front of him and spoke in Old English. He didn't hide his smirk upon seeing Jack jump slightly, when Merlin's eyes glowed and an envelope appeared in his hand. Tossing the sealed letter to Jack, he smiled, "There's your invitation. Sorry about the mix up."

Harkness let out a smooth laugh as he caught it. "You sly dog!"

* * *

 

"Hey." Mickey said, taking a seat near Percival. "I would ask if you're doing alright, but from what Merlin was saying about you lot...I think it would be pointless."

The blond man's lips turned up slightly in gratitude. "I only saw Caerleon from a distance, a few times. If Camelot has suffered much the same disrepair, I am uncertain how I will react."

The dark-skinned man glanced towards the kitchen, where Merlin sat staring at his tea. "He didn't tell you then?"

Percival shook his head.

"Oh boy." Mickey breathed out and rubbed his hands together, nervously. He wasn't sure if he should be the one to explain to his new friend...how there was no Camelot. Until he met Merlin, even Mickey believed it was a myth. However, when the wizard had shown Mickey some of his magic, and began to spin the tales, the young man felt a stirring in his soul. He believed every word the blue-eyed man spoke...almost as if he had lived it.

"You know how it was a long time ago, right?" The knight nodded his understanding, so Mickey continued, "Well, most people, nowadays, just pass it off as fairy tales. Its not been proven that it ever existed. Although, now I know the prat over there," Mickey's eyes flicked to Merlin.

"I think he had something to do with it. I reckon, if it still exists, Merlin might have hidden it...or something...with his magic."

"I didn't hide it." Merlin called from the kitchen. Merlin stood and brought his tea with him into the sitting room. His voice was distant, as if he were reliving a memory. "By the time I was able to think of something like that...Camelot was already gone. The only part that was left, was immortalized in the Welsh fables. I came across a man by the name of Geoffrey of Monmouth in the twelfth century..."

"...but Geoffrey was at Camelot?" Percival asked, trying to understand.

"There was a Geoffrey there, too. However, the man I met simply had the same name, and penchant for recording history. Perhaps he was the same man, reborn. I don't know. Anyway, I began to tell him of my memories. Through him, and later through others, Camelot was rebirthed into legend. Much of it has been twisted and is completely inaccurate, but the idea of it...the fantasy of what it might have been, is strong in the hearts of many."

"...And the castle?"

"Long gone. I'm sorry to say."

Percival stared out the window. His thoughts were scattered as he tried to make sense of it all. "I want to see it." He said after a while.

"Tomorrow. We need to let Gwaine rest for a bit."

"Is he going to be alright?" The large man inquired.

Merlin shrugged, "That's up to him, I suppose. A lot of his pain, and his immobility, is in his head. He's getting better, but the psychological damage from everything you have both been through, is a heavy burden for him."

Percival nodded, "His last words to me, before I thought he was dead were..."

"I failed."

They all turned to see Gwaine sitting midway down on the flight of steps leading from the upper floor room.

"Gwaine, you should be in bed, resting." Merlin stated. He was secretly pleased to see that his friend had made it as far as he had on his own. "How did you manage to make it to the stairs?"

Gwaine shrugged, "Mostly crawling, and leaning on things. Nature called. What do you mean it's in my head?" The glare he shot Merlin was filled with anger and betrayal.

Merlin sighed, "Let's get you the rest of the way down here, and I'll try to explain."

* * *

 

The sun shone down, reflecting off the still surface of the lake. A green island in the center of the body of water was shrouded in mist. A dark pillar stood at the highest point, its pinnacle rising just above the fog. The road behind them was thankfully devoid of traffic, as the four men stared out at the lake.

Mickey leaned against the guardrail, slightly away from the others. Gwaine and Merlin sat on a bench facing the water, while Percival stood next to them. The mood was heavy among them, after Merlin finished his tale of Arthur's final moments. Gwaine asked about Gwen, and Merlin told him the same thing he had told Percival. She and her son were brought to the lake as well...the same place he had lain Lancelot to rest, after he had returned from under Morgana's control.

"I once again, wish to thank you for freeing me from her thrall, my friend."

The three men looked up sharply. Before them, as large as life, stood a vision of Lancelot. Merlin's brows pinched as he stared at their long lost friend, exactly how the warlock remembered him.

"I never actually died, if that's what you're wondering." He explained to his stunned friends. "When I gave myself to the veil, I was greeted by a being so ethereal, I thought for certain I was in heaven. Instead, however, I was given a choice, to become a guardian of sorts. Through her magic, Morgana was able to tap into that realm and bring my body back for her sick plan. I was powerless against her will. When Merlin brought my body here, he was able to release me back into the Ascended existence I had chosen."

"So...how are you here now?" Merlin asked, before rambling on. "I mean...not that I mind, I've seen a lot of things, lived a lot of lives...but..."

Percival cocked his head to the side. "Yes, how are you here?"

Gwaine's eyes narrowed. During one of Cameron's visits, the Air Force Colonel was able to explain more about the Ancients who built the Stargates, and their subsequent Ascension to a form beyond the likeness of a human. Originally, they were human, or at least something close to it. As their society blossomed, they reached a point in their evolution that allowed them to transform their consciousness into an ethereal ghost-like form.

The battle over Antarctica, when Cameron was shot down, was due to a Goa'uld who had been gifted with the ability to Ascend, in hopes that he would be able to lead his people to a better path. Unfortunately, Anubis had 'suckered', as Cameron put it, the Ancients. He took the power granted to him with his new form to take over much of the galaxy in his quest for power.

Lancelot smiled at Gwaine. "You know, don't you?"

Flipping his hair back, Gwaine laughed, "Yeah...yeah, I do."

"Good, because I don't have much time. I'm already breaking the rules by appearing to you now."

"Rules?" Merlin asked, his head was spinning. "You've visited me before, over the years, haven't you?"

The Ascended being only smiled his reply.

"Does that mean...Arthur...and Gwen?" Merlin's throat was tight as he began to realize the possibilities.

"No, their fates are different than my own."

"You said 'are', not 'were'." The warlock immediately questioned the phrasing .

"Did I?" Lancelot feigned innocence. The ghostly knight suddenly looked over his shoulder. He turned back with a harried expression. "I must go. Just know when the time comes, you will be ready." He turned and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Percival called out to his friend. "Will we see you again?"

Lancelot shrugged and smiled. "I'll be keeping watch over you all. Goodbye, my friends." His form faded as he walked away, leaving the four men stunned.

"I'd love to say that was weird...but for my life, it really wasn't." Mickey said, startling the other three.

They all began laughing. "Come on, we have one more place to go, before we rush off to London so I can get married."

Gwaine stood and stretched with a cat-like grin, before he realized the pain he had been feeling was now nothing more than a dull ache from disuse. He took a wobbly step and nearly fell over.

Percival caught his friend and chuckled, "Merlin said it would still take some time."

"Yeah, but at least now there's a reason to hope."

* * *

 

An hour later they stopped and picked up a takeaway lunch from a shop, before piling back into the SUV. The four men had been talking non-stop about what Lancelot might have meant. Merlin brought up his concerns, and told them about the prophecy. Mickey and Gwaine seemed to be in agreement that the threat was probably alien, both having had experiences with the extraterrestrial.

"You mentioned, the other night with Martha, about two kings on an alien planet." Percival said.

Merlin bared his teeth in a grimace. "Um...I...uh..."

"Two kings?" Gwaine cocked his head to the side.

"Mickey, you want to turn down that dirt path, just up and to the right a bit."

"Merlin?" Gwaine prodded.

"It was a theory that Elvis and Arthur..."

"Were what? Singing 'hunk-a-hunk-a burnin' love' on some alien planet somewhere, while sipping on pina colada's?"

Mickey snorted out a laugh as he turned down the overgrown trail. An old rusted gate and a fallen tree barred the way. "Um...how do we get through here?"

"Like this..." Merlin held out his hand. His eyes flashed with inner fire as the tree disappeared and the gate swung open. Mickey drove through, Merlin twisted around in the seat and without a word, the roadblock was back in place.

"Now that I understand a bit more, that actually is rather hot." Percival said.

The other three cackled at the knight's attempt at modern vernacular. Gwaine put a hand on his large friend's shoulder. "You mean 'cool', I think. Saying it was 'hot', would be like when that Harkness character was flirting with you...because he thinks you're hot."

Percival's eyes widened in fear and embarrassment. "Yes, I meant 'cool'."

Gwaine sat back and looked out the window, as the vehicle crept along. The tree line thinned ahead of them and opened up into a lush green field. Across the way, they could see a manor house, set on top of a hill. "Where are we anyway?"

Merlin's eyes casually scanned the area. "Oh, you know, just some land I own." At Gwaine's questioning look, he continued, "Okay, it's more like a rather large estate I managed to acquire back around the eighteenth century."

"It looks sort of familiar." Percival stated.

"It should..." Merlin said softly, his voice filled with reverence. "It's Camelot."

"Camelot?" Gwaine spouted, his brown eyes wide.

"Camelot?" Percival also questioned.

Merlin was unfortunately taking a drink out of his paper coffee cup when Mickey muttered beside him. "It's only a model."

The coffee sprayed from Merlin's lips, across the inside of the windsheild. Gwaine was rolling with laughter in the backseat.

Percival blinked, "I don't get it."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1]: Reference to Doctor Who episodes: 4x12, 13 "The Stolen Earth" and "Journey's End"
> 
> [2]: Virtual cookie for those that can guess this movie.


	8. Chapter 8

**Epilogue:**

 

* * *

 

"Oh no, you didn't?" Merlin's blue eye were the size of saucers as his friend walked into the room.

Percival began laughing, unable to verbally express his amazement at Gwaine's new look. The other man's hair was now as short as his own. Gone were the locks of chestnut brown that hung around his face and neck...and the natural curls at the ends, were a thing of the past. Even more startling, was the clean shaven face which appeared completely out of place on the former knight and made his nose seem just a bit longer.

"Well," he said flippantly. "You said so yourself, that you don't want to make the bride angry. So...I consulted Martha and we debated between a tux or my Dress Blues. She felt it would be more fitting for me to wear the uniform...since you are wearing your UNIT dress, as well."

"All my years...and they have been many..."

"...As you keep reminding us." Mickey quipped, rolling his eyes.

"I never thought I would see you with short hair." Merlin wiped away an invisible tear and sniffled, glancing at Percival. "Our little Gwaine is all grown up."

Unconsciously, Gwaine flicked his head, as if trying to knock his now non-existent hair back. "Eh, I'll have to go back to work sometime. I figured I might as well get the worst part over with."

 

 

* * *

The wedding itself was an affair grander than Merlin personally wanted, but this day was for Martha. It was a lesson he learned long ago when he first suggested to Mithian that they tone things down for the massive ceremony when they joined. The Nemethian Princess, already stressed beyond reason over the state of affairs, held her chin high, teardrops glistening in her eyes. She diplomatically explained to her soon-to-be husband that a royal wedding was not to be taken lightly. It was a day she had dreamed of since she was a small girl, and it was what her mother would have wished for her.

_"If that is what you truly wish, we should find a compromise and I will find a way to send all the visiting dignitaries home." Mithian let an unvocalized sigh hang in the air._

Properly browbeaten with guilt, Merlin acquiesced to his bride and, despite his own frayed nerves, never said anymore about it. As he had stood next to her on the dais in the Great Hall, the crowds of people faded away. The glowing smile and sparkling eyes of his princess made it all worthwhile. He never again argued with any of his wives when it came to that one particular day of their lives. Merlin would live on and see other weddings, but for the women he had married throughout the centuries, he was happy to let them decide their own wedding day.

Martha was no exception. Even though he had to remind her on occasion that it was HER day...and not her mother's.

Francine Jones had cried from the pews as her eldest daughter spoke the vows of marriage. Merlin had to bite back a smirk at the spectacle his new mother-in-law was creating.

A DJ played music 'too loudly', according to Percival, who was still adjusting to the modern lifestyle. The guests gathered in a lavishly decorated banquet hall filled to the brim with flowers, balloons, organza, and streamers as the newlyweds made their way in. The announcement of the couple's entrance raised a loud cacophony of cheers and whistles. Soon they were seated at the table on a raised platform while dinner was brought out. After the main course was served, the toasts began.

Most were rather predictable, wishing Merlin and Martha the best, as they set out in their new lives together. But then came the one Merlin was dreading...Gwaine, in his position as best man, was handed a microphone.

Gwaine smiled and ran his right hand over his head, still unused to the lack of hair after so many years. "Wow, what do I say? I could tell you all a lot of secrets, but then he'd probably do something horrible to me. So, that really wouldn't be such a good thing."

He cleared his throat and grasped the back of his chair, to keep his balance. "A long time ago, I was feeling a bit lost in life and that's when I met this man. I helped save him that day...but little does he realize, just how much he saved me. He proved to me, at a time when I didn't believe in much, that there was still something good out there. I watched for a while and helped him out when I could...or whenever he would finally swallow his pride enough to actually ask.

"It was by some miracle that we were recently reunited, and he once again helped me to find belief in myself and the world. I really can't imagine my life now without my best friend.

"I've only known Martha for a very short time, but she is as amazing of a woman as any I could imagine, and I'm grateful that she came into his life...Someone who can be there for him, the way he has been there for others.

"Merlin, you really deserve this happiness I now see in your eyes and your step. Martha, you really have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?" Gwaine winked roguishly at the bride.

Merlin shook his head and shot Gwaine a mirth-filled glare. Martha laughed and smiled. "Perhaps not, but I look forward to finding out."

 

 

* * *

"Percival!" Jack Harkness smiled and placed his hand on the large knight's shoulder. "Care to dance?"

Stiffening, Percival glanced around nervously. Mickey had explained a bit more about the Torchwood Captain, and how modern society was more accepting of people such as Jack. However, that didn't mean Percival wanted to be on the receiving end of such attention. His eyes darted about, as he tried to search out his friends for assistance. "Um...I'd rather not."

Unfortunately for Jack, he wasn't a man let sleeping dogs lie. "Oh come on, it's just a dance, not like I plan on taking you to bed with me. Okay, actually I wouldn't mind if that's where it led to, but it's just here on the dancefloor, you're perfectly safe." Unable to help himself, Jack patted Percival on his backside.

Mickey, holding a video camera, managed to capture a digitized version of the action.

Faster than anyone could blink, Percival's closed fist connected. All it took was a single swing to send Jack sprawling across the floor in a 'dance' he wasn't expecting.

Many of the guests who knew of the Captain's antics laughed, others gaped in shock. The music paused for a moment as Gwaine suddenly appeared next to his large friend. He suggested they get some air, while a host of women began offering to help Jack to his feet.

During the commotion, no one but Martha noticed when the groom faltered temporarily, as if overtaken by an instant wave of fatigue. "Are you okay?" She asked, her voice heavy with concern.

Steadying himself against his new wife, Merlin blinked and swallowed, "I don't know. Something just happened."

"Yeah, Percival didn't take well to Jack's advances."

"No...it was something else," he whispered.

 

 

* * *

_He held the sword in a ready position, facing against an opponent he could barely see._

_Nothing... except for the briefest of glances through the visor slit...and he didn't understand or like what little he saw._

_He felt the movements. He knew the battle...but he was weak._

_It was wrong. All so wrong._

_His muscles felt cramped, but they weren't even moving._

_The man with a sword in front of him hardly had an ounce of skill, and yet somehow managed to get the upperhand._

_For a brief second, his vision cleared and he saw the room around him. Filled with treasure and something else..._

_Soundlessly, he tried to screamed her name..._

_Then there was nothing._

* * *

 

  
_"You try to find the words you want to say_  
You might be looking much too far away  
 _to recognize we're all disguised"_

~Katie Herzig "Make A Noise"

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue:  
> *USMC: United States Marine Corps  
> *SGC: Stargate Command  
> *DHD: Dial Home Device  
> Ancients: The race of aliens that was thought to originally build the Stargate
> 
> Chapter One:  
> *M.A.L.P Mobile Analytic Laboratory Probe, is a reconnaissance probe employed by Stargate Command and the Atlantis expedition to determine the conditions on the other side of an active wormhole before sending a team through, in order to make sure it's safe.
> 
> Chapter Two:  
> *UNIT (UNified Intelligence Taskforce, or United Nations Intelligence Taskforce) is a military organisation from the British science fiction television series Doctor Who, Torchwood, and The Sarah Jane Adventures.  
> Following the broadcast of the 2005 series, executive producer Russell T Davies claimed that the UN were no longer happy to be associated with the fictional organisation, and the UN's full name could now no longer be used. However, the "UNIT" and "UN" abbreviations could be used, as long as it was not explained what the letters stood for. (from wikipedia dot org)  
> *Various references to Doctor Who, from season 3 eps 1 and 2.  
> Funny tidbit: in The Shakespeare Code (ep 3x2) The Doctor, preparing to open the door and allow Martha to experience time travel, actually says, "It's a brave new world..." which is quite amusing since they went back in time and not forward, as the reference is a to a book about a future time.  
> *I could hear Keith Morrison, of Dateline NBC, doing a voice over for this imagined narration.
> 
> Chapter Three:  
> [1] Page Seven: I'm unsure what the Air Force equivalent is, but for the Coast Guard this is remarks from someone of a higher rank that go on your personal file. They can either be positive or negative, however most of the time when used as everyday jargon, it's referred to in the negative aspect.  
> [2] VA Veterans Affairs  
> [3] GED General Education Degree  
> [4] ROTC Reserve Officer Training Corps  
> [5] PTSD Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder  
> [6] KP Kitchen Patrol.*  
> [7] CO Commanding Officer  
> [8] Reference to Stargate Ep 9x1 Cameron saying to Walter: "It doesn't look like we're getting the band back together."
> 
> Chapter Four:  
> *Song: Promised Land by Elvis Presley.
> 
> Chapter Five:  
> [1] 14ers: yes this is the proper spelling. Colorado is partially known for the mountains that top fourteen thousand feet above sea level. Pikes Peak is probably the most well known of them. If you're having trouble visualizing the mountain, just google Pikes Peak and click images. It's really an amazing mountain to see. "Pikes Peak or Bust" was a slogan during the Colorado Gold Rush days. Wikipedia has some great info on it.  
> [2] SCA: The Society for Creative Anachronism, Inc. Is a group of people that get together and recreate medieval events such as battles, feasts, and tournaments.
> 
> Chapter Six:  
> [1]: Reference to Doctor Who episodes: 4x12, 13 "The Stolen Earth" and "Journey's End"  
> [2]: Virtual cookie for those that can guess this movie.


End file.
